Call of the Circle
by RoBoC
Summary: During the summer after his fifth year, Draco Malfoy has an encounter that will forever alter his world.
1. Coming Home

"Well, another year over." Draco sighed to himself as he stepped out of the carriage outside his house. He paused at the base of the steps and looked up at it. This house had been in his family forever. It looked exactly the same as it had the last time he'd seen it, not that that was a surprise. As long as he had lived here, all his life, it had never changed. The house was over 300 years old and it was huge; over two hundred rooms spread over three stories. Everything in it was old, old furniture, old paintings, old rooms, everything was…just old. How he hated the thought of spending another summer here, but what choice did he have?

He sighed again, louder this time and walked up the steps to the front door. The huge oak door opened as he reached it. Jenkins, the butler, gave him his customary nod as he entered, a gesture which Draco didn't return. '_Never acknowledge the servants, they exist to serve us. They don't deserve courtesy._' His father's voice echoed through Draco's head as he walked down the empty halls. He smiled, an echo was better than the real thing. This summer, he would be spared the usual rhetoric and endless dogma that seemed to dominate every conversation he and his father ever had. Lucius was not going to be lecturing him, what with him being in prison and all. Despite himself Draco couldn't help the little smirk that flashed across his face as he thought of Lucius in Azkaban. Even without the Dementors standing guard, the wizard prison had to be a far from a pleasant place to be.

Draco didn't feel the least bit sorry for his father's predicament. Lucius deserved everything he got. Attacking Harry Potter – well Draco couldn't fault him for that. He had lost count of the times he had wished he could jinx Potter into oblivion, but Lucius had attacked Potter in the headquarters of the Ministry of Magic of all places. How stupid could any man possibly be? Had he really thought that he could do that and _not_ get caught? Draco shook his head, and then swallowed a curse as a wave of dizziness swept over him. 'Damn it,' he swore to himself, he still wasn't over the train ride home. Still, he thought himself lucky, Potter's pack of cronies had hit him with so many different hexes that he was lucky to be the right shape, let alone able to walk unassisted.

As he stalked up the staircase to his bedroom a question occurred to him: Why had he bothered attacking Potter at all? Past experience alone should have taught him that Potter was no pushover in a fight, and Potter's friends had demonstrated the annoying habit of rushing to his rescue at the worst possible times. The outcome was unavoidable from the outset, especially with Crabbe and Goyle for backup, he'd of been better off with a couple of doxies, at least they knew when to hide! Attacking Potter on the train had amounted to suicide, if not in the literal sense of the word. So why had he done it?

The answer came to him almost as quickly as the question – because it was what was expected of him. He was a Malfoy, and Potter was responsible for a yet another public disgrace to the Malfoy name. It was irrelevant that Lucius had been the cause of his own downfall, Draco had to be seen to be upholding the Malfoy name – his name was more important than he was, it was more important than the truth, it was more important than anything. That was another lesson Lucius had beaten into his head his whole life, so much so that it was second nature to him now.

He entered his bedroom and closed the door. As he got changed out of his school robes his mind turned to the summer that stretched out in front of him, and he wondered what he was going to do to occupy his time. It was a decision he had never had to make before. In the past, it had all been planned out for him. There would be the obligatory family trip to somewhere fashionable, arranged so as not to clash with the seemingly endless calendar of balls and banquets that his parents had insisted on attending, dragging him along for the ride. But this year would be different. There would be no family holiday this summer. What with Lucius' situation, and his mother playing the disgraced wife and hiding out in the summer house in Belgium, he doubted if he would even see either of them all summer. Without his parents around to drag him, there would be no balls or stuffy banquets to attend. In fact, it was likely that most of them wouldn't even be held, what with most of the guests being in prison or on the run from the aurors. No, the Malfoy social calendar for the summer was well and truly clear for once, and Draco didn't mind a bit. He would put the time to good use, or rather to no use. Endless days of doing literally nothing lay before him – it was going to be a good summer.

* * *

In a dark and dingy room above the Leaky Cauldron in London, a hooded figure stood silently watching the passing throng outside the window. He had been waiting there for hours, but that didn't bother him. Patience was one quality he had in abundance. Time passed by unheeded as he stood, and watched, and waited. He gave no reaction to the rustle of feathers as a large eagle flew in the open window and passed inches above his head to land on the floor behind him. He didn't move as with a slight muffled grunting noise the bird started to grow and change. He didn't even move when it straightened up and settled into the shape of a second, taller hooded figure, and stepped up to stand behind him. He simply stood there gazing out the window at the street below for a full thirty seconds before he spoke.

"Is it done?" His voice from within the hood was measured, confident and cold.

The second figure bowed his head before he responded, "It is my lord," his voice was, like the other, flat and toneless, "All preparations have been made." The second figure hesitated slightly before continuing. "Forgive me, my lord, but I must question your choice on this matter. The boy was a mess getting off the train, I don't believe that he is up to the challenge."

"Yes…I am told he had quite the little hexing contest. He picked a fight with half the students on the train by all accounts." A slight chuckle, one completely bereft of any real warmth escaped from beneath the hood. "However I have reconciled myself with the choice. He will prove himself in the end."

"Yes," the taller man paused for contemplation, "but, if he is so impulsive and short sighted as to start a fight he can't win, surely he cannot be ready for what awaits him."

"No," the first man straightened, "he is most certainly not ready. I will have my work cut out for me to be sure. Success is by no means guaranteed," he inclined his head slightly in thought, "Were time not such a factor, I would have pushed harder for another but at this point we have no choice. There is nobody else that even comes close to being eligible so he will have to do…What of the other?"

The tall man shifted his position, his bearing stiffened, "We located her, my lord. She remains exactly where she is supposed to be. Thus far, all signs point to perfect containment. It should remain so for the foreseeable future, long enough to serve our purposes at least."

Another chuckle, a louder one this time filled the space beneath the smaller figures hood, "An interesting assessment, Captain," he said, "Especially given that you have no idea what our purposes are in that matter."

"Forgive me my lord. I was merely speculating based on the available options and their consequences. The girl should not be in a position to interfere with our operations"

"And supposing we want her to interfere?" He raised a hand to cut off the response. "In future it would be best if you kept your speculations to a minimum. Certainly keep them to yourself, unless you are asked for them. Trust that you will be told all that you need to know, as you need to know it."

The taller man bowed, "Yes, my lord."

That ended the conversation, both figures returned to their silent vigil at the window. An hour later when Tom, the innkeeper, came in, he found the room deserted. A small stack of coins beside the bed more than covered the cost of renting the room. Tom scooped up the gold and shrugged, they came, they went, and they paid their bill, that ended Tom's interest in his customers.

* * *

Sarah Granger was sad. She was always sad on this day. Every year this day came and went, bringing back the memories she had tried so very hard to bury. She swallowed against the lump in her throat as she took out the candle, the same candle every year, and set it on the mantle. Igniting a taper, she lit it, and then said her silent prayer as she watched the dancing flame. Despite her best efforts, her mind wandered once more down the dark and painful corridors of the past. Silent tears flowed from her eyes as she remembered the life she had had, the things she had lost…the secrets that still ate at her heart. She jumped slightly when she heard the front door slam, she hadn't even heard the car pull up in the driveway. Sarah wiped hard at her eyes as the door to the hall burst open and in she ran,

"Hi Mum!" Hermione shrieked as she threw herself into Sarah's arms.

"Hello darling," Sarah answered, wrapping her arms round her daughter and giving her a squeeze. "Did you have a good term?"

Hermione broke the hug, for an instant her smile wavered before she remembered herself. There was no use in telling them she had decided, it would only scare them, "Yeah it was OK," she said cheerily, "You know, the usual stuff. I'm glad to be home, I missed you."

Sarah smiled, "I missed you too darling." If Sarah had seen the momentary hesitation on her daughters face, she didn't let on. "It's good to have you home. How was the trip? You're late getting here! I was expecting you over an hour ago."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Yeah the motorway was murder!"

A muffled swearword came from the door, both girls turned to see a pile of books stagger in the door. Based on the language, someone wasn't happy.

"Frank!" Sarah barked at her husband who was somewhere beneath the mountain of literature. "Watch your mouth in front of your daughter."

The muffled voice grew louder and more impolite. The pile of literature started to sway in time with the swearing. Hermione screeched again as she ran toward the tumbling stack and desperately tried to catch her books, but to no avail. There was a great clatter of falling books and tearing paper. Frank Granger appeared from the chaos looking none too pleased.

"Sorry dear," he said, rather sheepishly, "Erm, Hermione," he added, surveying the chaos before him, "did you _have_ to bring the whole bloody library with you?"

"Dad!" Hermione retorted harshly, "I didn't bring the whole library, just what I needed to do my homework for next term." Hermione stood and surveyed the carnage, books and scrolls lay scattered over the floor. This was a disaster, she mulled, all her hours of organising and preparing those books wasted in a moment, she was ready to cry. "Aw," she said, chewing her lip, "Did you have to drop them, Dad? They were all in order you know. I'll never get them sorted out again." She dropped to her knees in the rubble and started trying to sort them out.

"Sorry pet," Frank soothed, "I didn't mean to drop them, but they were just too heavy. Here," he bent down, "let me help you."

"No! Don't!" Hermione batted his hand away, "Really…I'll do it. It's the only way I'll know where everything is."

Frank was in no mood to argue, he dropped the book he had picked up and turned to face his wife, "I'm shattered," he breathed, genuinely exhausted, "I swear, London is getting farther away every year."

"Oh well," Sarah said brightly, "You're home now, and that's the important thing. Sit yourself down. I know you won't say no to a nice cup of tea."

Frank's face lit with a smile of gratitude, "That would be lovely dear, thank you."

Sarah clapped her hands together smartly, "Coming right up," she looked down at her daughter, who was still just about visible beneath the piles of books, "How about you Hermione? Would you like some tea?" Sarah paused and waited for her daughter to answer, but all she got was a general grunt which she took to mean 'Yes, thank you mother, that would be lovely'. Sarah shook her head. She wasn't surprised that Hermione was pre-occupied. Books, especially unorganised books, were always more important to her than anything else. Taking one last glance at the candle, she paused for a moment before heading out into the kitchen to make the tea.

Frank stretched and stood, watching his daughter as she shuffled and sorted the mass of paper into some mysterious order that he knew would made no sense to anyone except her. 'How does she do it?' he asked himself for the hundredth time. It positively baffled him sometimes how complicated her mind could get. He closed his eyes and yawned, then stretched again and turned to sit down in his favourite chair. His eyes fixed on the candle over the fire and he froze. 'Not again!' Stifling a much more severe swearword he headed into the kitchen after his wife. Sarah was busy with the tea when he entered and closed the door behind him.

"Damn it, Sarah, what are you playing at?" It was a real effort to keep his voice down but he managed it.

"Playing at?" Sarah seemed genuinely confused as she turned to face him, "What do you mean? I'm making the tea."

Frank advanced toward her, "Not that, I mean, what are you doing with that blasted candle!" He hissed through clenched teeth. "We discussed this, and you told me you weren't going to light that damned thing again."

Sarah cast her eyes down to stare at the floor before answering, "I know what I said," she said quietly, "but I couldn't help it." She looked up at her husband with a pleading expression, "Really there's no harm in it. It's such a little thing, it can't hurt."

Frank shook his head, "I don't know why I have to keep telling you this, but little or big, it's too much. Hermione's a smart girl, Sarah. Trust me on this, one of these days that _little thing_ will lead to questions. Hermione will ask us, and we won't be able to answer her, and then where will we be?"

Sarah shook her head and turned back to the tea, "She won't ask anything, it's just a candle for God's sake, its nothing."

"It's not 'nothing'," Frank hissed, "It's a piece of the world we left behind, a place she can't know about, no matter what it costs. You know that, Sarah," he took hold of his wife's shoulders, "you above all people. Maybe before…" he paused as he found his voice rising and looked over his shoulder at the closed door to make sure it was still closed. Satisfied that his daughter couldn't hear, he went on. "…maybe before it didn't matter as much, but not now, not with…with things as they are."

"Frank…"

"We can't risk it, Sarah. That life, and everyone in it is gone, and we have to let it go."

Sarah's eyes locked with her husbands, "Maybe you can just let it go," she all but shouted, "but its not that easy for me. I…" her voice faltered, "I won't forget her, Frank, I can't. That candle in there is all I have left of her and, clue or not, dangerous or not, it's all I can do for her memory, and I'll do it Frank. I…" Tears welled up in her eyes and her voice failed her.

Frank stepped forward and put his arms round his wife, "Who said it's easy for me?" he asked in a whisper, "But this is Hermione's life we're talking about and, the more we cling, the more we hold on to the past, the more it hurts us, and the more danger we put her in."

Sarah drew back from him. She raised her head and looked him in the eye through her tears, "The candle stays Frank," her tone left no room for argument, "You let it all go if you want, but that candle stays. It's just a little thing, just for today, can't I have that much?"

Frank opened his mouth to argue the point some more but Hermione's voice cut him off. She called out from under her books to wonder where her tea had gone to.

"It's coming in a minute honey," he answered. He looked at his wife. This was an argument he was not going to win quietly or quickly, so he gave in. "Fine, it stays, but, for her sake, you had better have a hell of a good lie ready if she does ask." He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. Drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, he handed it to her. "Dry your eyes before you come in." With that he turned and left.

Sarah took a minute to catch her breath before a second shout from her daughter spurred her into action. '_Organising that mess must be thirsty work_' she thought to herself as she picked up the tray. She hesitated at the door, '_It's just a candle, she won't ask…she can't_'.


	2. An Unwelcome Guest

            Draco woke up in agony.  '_Blast, why did I have to fall asleep again?_'  He was lying by the side of the swimming pool in the shade, or at least it had been in the shade when he fell asleep.  The sun had moved on in the summer sky and he was now well and truly burned to a crisp.  This was the third time in as many days that he'd been sunburnt.  His was always careful not to tan; his skin took to the sun like a phoenix took to trees.  One minute everything was fine but before you know it whoosh – ashes.

            Slowly, grunting with each spasm of pain he got up and headed indoors.  He made a beeline, albeit a slow one to the nearest bathroom and the ointment cabinet.  After a couple of agonising moments he found the bottle he was searching for he took it out and read the label:

"_Harloks__ Burn Potion_"

"_Relieves burns of all kinds from candles to dragons._"

"_Puts the Fire Out!!!_"

            Not bothering to re-read the directions he opened the bottle and began to splash the contents of the bottle over his chest and arms, sighing loudly with relief as the potion cooled his skin.  He gave the potion five minutes to work its magic, long enough for his skin to return to its previous alabaster hue before heading upstairs to take a shower.  Twenty minutes of blissful cool water later he entered his bedroom, pulled a fresh shirt from his wardrobe and looked out the window at the early evening sky.  It was crystal clear, not a single cloud marred the endless blue.  The sun hung over the distant hills, almost smirking at him from the sky, inviting him outside once more.

"No way, not again, you won't get me twice in one day."  He growled under his breath.  There was no way he was going out there to get burned again, his skin itched badly enough as it was.  He would just have to amuse himself inside the house.  Oh well so he would have to sit inside and do nothing, big deal!!

            Thus far, with the exception of his attraction to the more painful side of the sun, the summer was going exactly as he had planned.  His days were spent reading or dozing by the pool, half-heartedly trying to work up the motivation to do his homework.  But the fact was that there remained eight weeks of summer break in which to do his assignments and the odds of him even looking at his books before the last week were so small as to be non-existent.  He finished buttoning his shirt and settled into his chair by the window.  He picked up the book he had been reading before he got toasted and thumbed to the page he last remembered reading.  It was a surprisingly enjoyable book despite it having been written by a muggle.  Draco had been wary of buying it but the wizard in Flourish and Blott's had assured him that it was really a very fine piece of muggle fiction.  Against his better judgement he had bought the thing and started to read it.  He had been surprised at just how much imagination this particular muggle had possessed.  Three hundred pages in and he could hardly put 'The Lord of the Rings' down.

            Hours past as he read, the sky outside grew steadily darker as evening and then night crept in.  His room got colder until, shivering he realised how late it had become.  Where was Jenkins?  Shouldn't he have interrupted him hours ago with his dinner?  Then the dim recollection struck him, Jenkins wasn't there, he had taken a day off to visit his sister or something.  Draco barely remembered the conversation from the previous evening.  '_Bugger!__  I'll have to fend for myself so._'  Still that shouldn't be too difficult.  He picked his wand up from his desk and waved it over an empty portion of his desk.  Out of nowhere a plate piled high with sweets and cakes appeared.  '_I do learn some things in that school after all._'  Draco smiled to himself and turned to light the fire.  He extended his arm and took aim at the hearth when he caught sight of a dark shadow standing by the fireplace.  He was not alone!!

            He was paralysed, unable to manage as much as a stammer.  He could now clearly make out the dark shape of someone standing not ten feet away, looking at him.  Before he could shake himself out of his stupor, the figure spoke.

            "Well?  You've seen me.  What are you going to do?  Close your eyes and hope I disappear?"  The voice was calm and cold; it rattled in the back of Draco's head and sent a shiver down his spine.  After a few moments, when Draco didn't answer, he spoke again.  "If my memory serves me, you _can_ talk Draco.  I am certain that your father educated you in basic manners.  But if the simple courtesy of saying hello is beyond you, at least you could light the fire.  That is why you turned round in the first place isn't it?  It is rather cold in here."  Again, Draco didn't answer, by now thoughts were racing through his head, he thought he could guess the identity of his visitor and he was fighting hard not to scream for his life.  After a moment, the figure sighed and moved.  A small gesture, barely noticeable in the gloom, he raised his arm and waved his hand at the fireplace.  In an instant the hearth was alive with flame, light and heat from the flames flooded into the room illuminating the stranger.  At first he was merely an outline, a silhouette lit from the rear.  Draco couldn't see his face until he turned to gaze into the dancing flames he had conjured.  To Draco's surprise and relief it was not the face he had imagined, not the face of the one he dreaded one day seeing.

            The stranger was a boy.  He couldn't be more than a year or two older than Draco.  He was average height, at least a hand span shorter than Draco.  He was thin with a pale face and short dark hair.  He was dressed all in black with a heavy black hooded cloak covering him down to the ground.  For a moment he gazed into the fire, seemingly lost in thought.  It occurred to Draco that he had seen the boy before, he just couldn't place where.  He turned to look at Draco again.

"That's better…but it is perhaps a little dark."  He gestured again, a sweep of his hand and all the candles in the room sprang to life.  Their glow added to the fire made the room seem all the warmer.  Draco's eyes surveyed the room, searching for any more uninvited guests before returning to the stranger and to his eyes.  Draco had always prided himself on his eyes, steel grey, they showed power, strength.  His father had encouraged him to use his eyes, '_a cold stare, properly mastered can break even the strongest will_'.  Lucius could certainly break wills with a stare, Draco had seen it all his life and been on the receiving end more than once, but as yet hadn't mastered the skill.  But nothing, no look Lucius had ever given him prepared him for what he saw in this boy's eyes.

It wasn't as if the stranger looked like he was trying to scare him.  Everything about him seemed relaxed.  The way he stood, the casual way he moved, even the expression on his face.  If Draco were asked to put a word to it, he would say that the stranger looked bored.  But his eyes were another thing altogether.  They were icy blue and shone like mirrors.  They were a contradiction of every other aspect of him.  If he was peaceful, they were in chaos.  If he was calm, they were rage.  If he was safe, they were lethal.  His gaze drilled right into Draco's soul.  He couldn't bear to hold his eyes for more than a moment.  He looked away and stared at the floor.

"Well?  Are you going to use that?  Or is it that you just enjoy pointing it at people?"  The voice snapped Draco out of whatever spell the eyes had put him under.  He remembered who he was, where he was.  With a sudden boldness he stood, kicking his chair over in the process.  He levelled his wand at the stranger's chest and summoned all his will to force himself to stare once again into those eyes.

"W…Who are you?"  His voice faltered at first but he managed to sound reasonably sure of himself by the end of the question.

"Ah, so he does speak.  Excellent I was beginning to think id need to get you a quill and parchment."  His voice was still the same and yet, somehow it wasn't.  There was a melody to it that Draco couldn't capture.  Something that fascinated him, made him forget all about what he was doing.  The stranger turned and walked slowly back to the fire.  He picked up a poker and began to stoke the flames.  The noise and light from the newly enraged fire brought Draco once again back to reality.

"I said who are you?  I demand to know what you're doing in my house."  The stranger sighed and stood up, dropping the poker with a loud clash of metal on stone.

"Weak…weak…defiant and weak.  The slightest thing derails him.  We cannot begin this way.  I see we must do this the hard way."  He turned and looked at Draco again.  Draco felt as if he would collapse, it was as if every bone in his body had turned to jelly.  When he spoke his voice had changed again, this time the melody colder, it felt like a wave of ice slamming into Draco's mind.  "Still with the wand?  Do you know how it works?  Yes?  Well then use it Malfoy.  Use it now or put it down."  He stepped forward, advancing on Draco.

"S…Stu…Stupif…" was all he managed to say, his voice wouldn't cooperate with what was left of his will.  The spell never left his wand, instead there was a blinding flash of red light.  Draco felt the impact below his sternum, the world spun, he felt his wand fly from his grasp.  A second impact, this time across his back knocked the wind out of him.  He heard a thud and suddenly he was lying face down on the floor.  He hadn't felt himself hit the floor but here he was, bathed in pain.  His skin was on fire, his ears rang, his eyes stung and his insides were frozen solid.  He couldn't move, he prayed that he would pass out.  The world spun again, now he was lying on his back looking up.  He saw the strangers face swim into focus above him.  He was standing over him with a wand, Draco's own wand in his hand.  He spoke for what seemed like forever but through the ringing in his ears all Draco could make out was:

"Yes, it will be much harder this way."

There was a flash of white light and Draco knew no more.

---------------------------------

He awoke with his face resting on something hard.  He took a moment to try to guess where he was, did that really happen?  The pain in his chest and across his back told him that something definitely had.  He raised his head and sat up.  Slowly, he was very dizzy, he opened his eyes.  The first thing he saw was the sky, he was looking out of a large window at the countryside.  It was early in the morning by the look of the sky.  Come to think of it, the view was familiar.  He widened his vision, drawing back from the window to look at the room he was in.  He recognised it instantly.  This was his fathers study, he had been asleep with his head on Lucius' desk.  Draco's wand lay on the centre of the desk, a few inches from where his head had lain a few moments ago.  He reached out and picked it up.  Was it real?  Did it really happen?

He looked down, pulling his shirt open to look at his chest.  Just below his heart there was a large, ugly looking bruise, evidence of whatever it was the stranger had hit him with.

"So, you're awake then."  The voice from behind him startled him.  He jumped to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to keep him upright and turned around.  There he was, his strange visitor was standing with his back to him at one of the larger bookshelves that lined the walls of the study.  He didn't seem to care much about Draco, the comment had been passed off with an uninterested air.  He seemed far too engrossed in the books on the upper shelves.  This time, Draco remembered his voice.

"Who are you?  What do you want with me?"  There was no point in even trying to keep the waver out of his voice.  The stranger paused for a moment before turning to face him.  His eyes were different this time.  They lacked the cold fire of the previous night.

"What do I want with you?  A good question, but we'll get to that.  There are a few other things we need to cover before we do.  As for who I am… well I must admit I am rather insulted, if not altogether surprised that you don't remember me.  We have met before you and I.  On at least two separate occasions if I am not mistaken."

The voice was different too.  It was quieter somehow.  It lacked the melodious qualities that it had before.  It reminded Draco of a thousand other voices he had heard over the course of his life.  Each one was different but they were all the same, they all reeked of wealth, the kind of wealth that allowed for children to spend hours learning the correct way to speak, the right way to act, the proper way to think.  The face was still familiar, in this light, without the shock and terror he had felt earlier, Draco had time to think, to place the voice and the face and dredge up the name.

"Etean!  Your name is Robert Etean.  I met you at some party or other, in France last summer."

"Very good, I had started to believe you were some kind of idiot.  I am glad to be proven wrong.  But to be precise, we met at a banquet which my father arranged last summer to celebrate my sixteenth birthday."

"That's right, I remember now."  Draco remembered the party.  The Etean family were possibly the richest and most influential wizarding family in Europe.  The head of the family, known as Lord Etean even had a permanent seat on the French Ministry's Administrative Committee.  Rumour had it, according to Lucius anyway, that no new law or legislation could get enough of the Committee's support to pass unless Lord Etean backed it.  Lucius had dragged Draco to that party to meet with and be seen by '_all the right people_'.  He could still see his mother's face when the invitation had arrived.  Robert Etean was the only child of Lord Etean, his birthday party had been '_the party of the year_' according to his mother.  Draco hadn't really _met_ Robert at the party, they had said the obligatory hello when he had arrived and that was about it.  Draco had spent most of the party in one of the side passages with a pretty young French witch named… he couldn't remember so she can't have been important, fun, but not important.  None of this explained why Robert Etean was here now or what he wanted.  "It was a good party."

"Don't lie."  Etean chuckled, turning back to the bookshelf.  "You are really bad at it.  You hated that party, maybe even more than I did.  You were forced to attend by your parents who saw it as a chance for social advancement blah blah blah.  I was forced to be there because it was what was expected of me.  Still at least _you_ managed to amuse yourself as I recall.  As for me, I was bored to tears the entire night."

"It was your birthday party!"

"I know what it was, I was there after all.  But answer me this, would you choose to have a birthday party full of stuffy old wizards all of whom were too caught up in their own importance to see past their nose.  Would you choose to paint a smile on your face and spend the evening having the same conversation over and over again with everyone…Oh yes, it's a great occasion…the 15th Lord Etean you'll be…a huge responsibility you know…if ever you need advice, remember me…"  he paused and shook his head.  "Every single one of them offered to give me advice, every single one – your father included by the way, wanted to be a friend to the next Lord Etean.  None of them even knew me!  That night was about one thing and one thing only…power.  My father's power to be more exact, and how one day it would pass to me.  They all had the same goal.  Whenever two people pass a cup of water between them, there is a chance that a few drops will spill out.  Every single wizard at that party and at every other party before or since was jockeying to be close enough to catch some of those drops.  Ah finally, here it is."  He reached up and selected a volume from the dusty shelf.  He opened it and began to flick through the pages.

"You would be surprised," he continued, turning and walking slowly towards Draco, his attention fully on the book, "how consumed and fixated people, especially wizards can get when it comes to power.  Who has it, how to get it, how to keep it and so forth.  You see it everywhere, particularly if you have ever sat in on any political meetings."  He paused again and visibly shuddered before continuing.  "Politics should be banned.  Politicians – servants of the people indeed.  Servants of themselves is more like it.  Most if not all have absolutely no interest in anyone else's needs.  They just like to talk, and talk and talk in the stupid belief that anyone is even remotely interested in hearing a thing they are saying.  They argue, quibble and squabble like chickens over some boring law or other and think that they are important for it, that they are powerful.  The funny thing is, not a single one of them has the slightest notion of what real power is like or has the strength or wisdom needed to acquire it."  He continued past Draco to stand behind the desk.  He closed the book and held it behind its back.

"Tell me Draco, do you know what real power is?"  Draco stared blankly at him for a couple of seconds before he even began to think of an answer.  Apparently Robert wasn't actually waiting for an answer.  After a moments pause he straightened up and brought one of his hands around from behind his back.  He raised it in the air and slowly made a fist.  "This," he said, "is real power.  Not much to look at I grant you.  Just a fist, just one fist in the air.  What is it really?  What can it do?  But you see, it's _my_ fist.  I know what it is and I know what it means, I know what it has done and what it _can_ do.  I know that I am holding it in the air and I _know_ that you are incapable of changing any of those facts.  Nothing you can say or do can change what I know about this fist and that, Draco is real is power – knowledge.  Can you see that?"

"Right…power yeah…"  Draco had absolutely no idea what Etean meant.  So it was his fist and he knew about it, so what?  It still didn't explain what the hell was going on, why this guy was here or why he had nearly jinxed him into the next world last night.  Draco was tired of the lecture, he wanted some answers.  The pain in his chest signalled him that he did not want to piss this guy off, but this had gone on long enough.

"Fascinating as this topic is, I fail to see the point of it.  It really doesn't answer my question does it?  I didn't ask for a lecture, I have my father to give me those.  So how about a nice simple answer.  What are you doing here?  What do you want with me?"  Robert lowered his fist to his side.

"Oh you have your father for lectures do you?  My apologies, I have been misinformed.  I was under the impression that your father was indisposed at the moment, seeing as he is in prison and all that."

"Well I…I meant…you know what I meant, and you're avoiding the question."

"Correct I am.  As I said, there are other things we need to discuss before I can answer those questions.  But as you seem to be incapable of having a decent, interesting adult conversation, I guess we can skip ahead a bit.  The reason for the talk of power is quite complicated.  But to make it simple, I am here to make you an offer."

"Offer?  What kind of offer."

"I am here representing…well let us just say that I represent some people, people who understand the true nature of power and what it really means.  It is these people that want to make you the offer.  An opportunity if you will, a chance for you to gain some real power, the kind of power that would mean you could do virtually anything you wanted.  I can see you still don't know what I am talking about.  Let me try to clarify.

"Do you know what I did to you last night?  No?  I am not surprised.  In simplest terms I decided that you should be hurt, that you should be rendered unconscious and so it was.  How?  Because I knew I could do it, I had the power.  That's all it took, knowledge.  That knowledge gave me the power to hurt you.  I didn't need a spell or a wand to do it, all I needed was the power.  That's what's on offer here Draco.  That power, the kind of power that allowed me to walk into your home, into your very room without your knowledge.  The kind of power that allowed me to render you unconscious with a thought.  The kind of power which means that even now I could still kill you on a whim.  Does that interest you?"

Draco could tell by the smile that had appeared on Etean's face that he knew all to well that it did.  But in all honesty, who wouldn't be interested in that sort of power.  If it was real that is.  Draco opened his mouth to respond but Etean cut him off by raising his hand.

"Don't, you don't know nearly enough to have anything of value to say.  It's enough for now that the offer has been made.  You should think about all I have said today.  If, after you have thought, you are ready to know more then we can continue."  He brought his other arm from behind his back, the one that still held the book.  He placed the leather bound volume on the desk and flipped through it until it lay open at a specific page.  He reached inside his robes and drew out an envelope which he placed on top of the book.

"I will leave you now.  If I may suggest you read this, it really is a very fine book, surprisingly accurate given the subject matter.  While you read remember what I have said about the true nature of power and remember also that while it may hide, or change appearance, true power never really disappears."  He placed a finger on the envelope.  "After you are finished reading, this will tell you where to find me, if you choose to.  If you don't come, it won't really matter to me.  You are under no obligations in this matter.  Know that above all, no one will force you in this.  You are free to decide for yourself if you wish to gain from this encounter or continue as before."  He straightened up and took a step back from the desk.  "Farewell Draco Malfoy, I have the feeling we shall meet again."  He disapparated with the faintest popping sound.

After he was gone, Draco stood in silence for a long while.  He shut his eyes, then covered them with his hand, trying to stop his head from spinning.  He didn't know how long he stood there listening to the sound of his own breath, until, as if someone had suddenly slapped him, he marched around to the other side of the desk.  He picked up the envelope and looked at the page that lay open beneath it:

"_Charon__ III – 926 A.M. to 0 P.E._"

            Of course he knew the name; he had studied it in school.  Charon was the last of the rulers of the Great Magical Empire.  He had presided over the last days of the empire as it fell into chaos.  He scanned the first paragraph of the text.  He picked up the book and looked at the title:

"_From Lite to Dark, the Komplete Historie of The Great Magikal Empyre_"

"_Volume X – end of the Lite_"

            It was just one of the countless boring historical texts his father had bought for show, he doubted if Lucius had ever so much as opened it before let alone read it.  So what was so important about this book?  He set it down and turned his attention to the envelope.  He opened it and emptied the contents onto the desk.  It wasn't much, just a single slip of parchment.  He unfolded:

"_La Chateau De Nuit, 15 rue de la Chapeau, __Paris_"

            An address of an inn or a pub by the sounds of it.  In Paris?  What? Was he supposed to just drop everything and head off to Paris?  For what?  Even if he did go, what was he supposed to do when he got there?  Walk into this Chateau de Nuit and ask for Etean?  He shook his head and sat down, prompting a fresh surge of pain from his injured back.  He grimaced until it subsided.  His eyes fell back to the book, he just stared at it.  He could almost feel Etean's eyes staring back at him from the page, watching him.

            He sighed, it was a mystery.  He had always hated mysteries.  Worse was he had always felt compelled by them.  He reached out and pulled the book to him and started to read.  It was the only place for him to start.


	3. An Offer Made

It was raining. There are many different types of rain. There is the gentle spray of drizzle, the casual, almost boring, plink-plop of what you could call normal rain, and there was the all out cascade of a true downpour. This was a downpour and then some. Draco sat, his head resting on his hand, listening to the raging sound as thousands of rain drops shattered against the window beside him. He could hear them but he could not see them, the windows of this grotty little tavern were far too dirty for that. Grease and filth were smeared in a thick layer over the windows. It almost appeared as though the glass was intentionally opaque. The rain wasn't doing anything to clean them either, not even the heaviest of downpours could hope to even make a dent in that much filth. Draco sighed and checked his watch. It was half past three, and he had been sitting in this disgusting place for over two hours and for what? Apparently, it seemed, for nothing.

Draco sighed again. He had arrived in Paris and come straight here. The cab driver had given him a funny look when he had asked to be taken to this place, and now he knew why. The Chateau de Nuit was located slap in the middle of the less hospitable side of Paris' wizard quarter, a place that made Knocturn Alley look like a school playground. This pub was exactly the kind of establishment you would expect to find in such a place. It was a small, filthy building, in a dark, twisted little cobbled street, squashed between a rather nasty looking apothecary and a shop that seemed to sell nothing but shrunken heads. He had not liked the look of the place when he saw it, and the speed at which the cab had left after he had paid the driver made him feel even worse. Still, he was not one to back away when he had made up his mind, so, gritting his teeth, he had marched into the inn and asked the barman where he might find Robert Etean.

"What? Lord Etean you mean? In here? Not likely young sir."

That was the response he had gotten, the response that a large part of Draco had been expecting.

"What makes you think that a rich and well to do wizard like him would be seen round here?" the barman had said through a chuckle.

Draco was fluent in French, having spent a good few of his summers travelling round France with his parents, but this man's accent was so heavy that Draco could barely keep up with him. Not that he really wanted to. It is a strange and almost universal fact the world over, that the keepers of inns and taverns invariably resemble their establishments in almost every detail. This particular barkeep was short and fat, his face was caked in grime from his filthy collar right up to the few strands of greasy hair that still clung to his scalp. His shirt was covered with countless stains, the cause of which Draco did not want to guess. When he had leaned over the bar to answer Draco's question, the stench of his breath had nearly knocked him out. Not keen to be dragged into any sort of conversation that would require him to remain at the bar, near to this gargoyle, Draco had hastily ordered a butterbeer and retreated to one of the more secluded booths near the windows.

And there he sat, sipping his beer and listening to the rain pound the windows, waiting to see if Robert Etean would show up. He was still not sure exactly why he had come. Etean had made him an interesting offer but he hadn't exactly been forthcoming with any real details of what he was talking about. When it came to it, Draco didn't know this guy at all and his behaviour thus far certainly hadn't been designed to inspire much trust on Draco's part. Unconsciously, Draco rubbed the fading bruise on his chest. It had been an impressive demonstration though, a painful one, but impressive nonetheless. So where was Etean?

If his offer was genuine, Draco supposed he would show up eventually. Etean certainly didn't seem the type to miss engagements. Indeed, he seemed to be exactly what Draco would have expected a person in his position to be, arrogant, polished and very, very rich. That, at least, was what Draco had been able to learn about him in the weeks since their last encounter – he hadn't learned much he had to admit, just what was written about Etean in the newspapers and gossip magazines he had foung. By far the most interesting piece of information that he had discovered was that Robert was now Lord Etean, having succeeded his father earlier that year. The late Robert Senior had died in what was best described as 'unusual circumstances'. His death had not been expected, there was no obvious illness involved. Reading between the lines, Draco had concluded that the succession of the new 15th Lord Etean had not been a simple affair. He could only guess as to the exact details, but it was certainly a very interesting puzzle – one more mystery to be solved.

Mysteries, Draco sighed, he was surrounded by mysteries. He had read that damned book, starting with the passage Etean had suggested, and then, finding no clue as to what the hell this was all about, the whole thing – all ten volumes of it, detailing the rise and fall of the Great Magical Empire. He had fallen asleep more than once. Like most historical literature it was extremely boring, full of names and dates that didn't really mean anything. To make it worse, it had been completely useless, he was still none the wiser as to this power Etean had offered him.

He sighed and tried to calm himself down. His mind was racing in circles and there was no point in getting angry – it could do no good. Idly he stared at the darkened surface of the window beside him, the noise of the rain outside continued unabated. He started to strum his fingers on the table in boredom. When, after a while, he reached out for his beer to take a sip, he saw that the mug was nearly empty. He was about to call the barman for another when someone plonked a full mug down on the table in front of him. Draco nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise. He looked up as the newcomer casually sat down opposite him and lowered his hood. He was not surprised by who it was.

"Do you know how long I've been sitting here in this…this filthy place waiting for you?" he struggled to keep his voice from sounding angry.

Etean didn't look the least bit apologetic for keeping him waiting, "Well hello to you too," he replied, "You know, you really need to work on your manners, Malfoy."

Draco scoffed, "You're a fine one to talk about manners, keeping me waiting all this time. I've been here for hours!" now Draco voice sounded angry. He could feel his face flush red as his temper boiled over.

Etean looked puzzled. He picked up his own mug of butterbeer and sniffed it, "Hmmm, smells normal to me," he tasted it. "Tastes normal too. Maybe I should have a word with Eric, maybe he has been tinkering with the beer again. He must have made this stuff stronger than it tastes for you to be this drunk on three of them."

"I am not dr…" Draco started, then paused, "Hang on, how do _you_ know how many I've had?"

Etean raised an eyebrow, "You'd be surprised how much I know about you. And if you're not drunk, then how else do you explain the fact that you are no longer the snivelling wimp I met before?"

"I…" again Draco was derailed, "What do you mean wimp?"

Etean chuckled, he took another swig of his beer, "When last we met Draco," he said, "You were so terrified at the mere sight of me, that you damn near passed out on the spot. Now look at you. You are actually being hostile," he smiled, "I find this Draco Malfoy far more interesting, can we keep him?" Etean's tone had turned into pure sarcasm.

Draco had had enough. He had not come all this way to be made fun of. He stood up and picked up his cloak from the seat beside him.

"Where are you going?" Etean asked, he seemed puzzled by Draco's behaviour.

Draco planted both fists on the table and leaned down till his eyes were level with Etean's, "I'm going home," he hissed, "I did not come here to wait in this hellhole for hours, only to have you show up and start insulting me," he stood up straight, "If you want to play games, find someone else to play with."

"Sit down," Etean said, picking up his beer again. It wasn't delivered as a command, not an order. Draco barely even heard the words, but he found himself sitting down again.

Etean leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, "Now then," he said quietly, "I know that you didn't come here to be insulted. I think it's good that you are angry with me. It shows that somewhere under those layers of bravado lies some real character," he paused for a moment and looked at Draco, "Maybe this _will_ work after all. So let us start this conversation again. Why did you come here?"

Draco sniffed, "I came here because this is where _you_ said I'd find you. I came here for answers."

"Do you know the questions?"

Draco swore under his breath, more riddles, "Do you _ever_ make any sense? What the hell do you mean, 'Do I know the questions?'"

Etean took up his mug, "I always make sense, just not to everyone else all the time. As for the questions…well that's simple. To have answers, you need questions. You cannot have one without the other. So," he took a drink, "What questions do you want me to answer, Draco?"

"Alright then," Draco leaned forward, "Here's one. Why did you want me to come to Paris? Why this place? It doesn't strike me as somewhere I'd expect to find Lord Etean," he jabbed a finger at the bar, "Even the bartender agrees with me. So why _are_ we here? And," he moved his finger to Etean, "I want a straight answer, not some convoluted jumble of hints and clues."

Etean sat back, "A straight answer?" he smiled, "Oh that's going to be a tough one. But OK. First, did you read that book I showed you?"

"Yes I read it," Draco said, "And its brothers: All ten fucking volumes."

"Read them all did you?" Etean chuckled heartlessly, "Ouch! I'll bet that was pleasant."

Draco made to stand up to leave again, but Etean raised his hand and waved him down. "Alright, so you want to know why I brought you here. It's simple really," he shrugged, "I needed to know if my offer had really interested you. The fact that you're here is proof that it did. Making you come to Paris made sense…you'll see why soon enough," he paused to look around, "This place isn't important, it's just somewhere I come from time to time. As good a meeting point as any."

"Come here from time to time do you?" Draco sneered, "That thing behind the bar said you'd never been in here before."

"Eric you mean?" Etean pointed at the bar over his shoulder. "Well of course he would say that. You think he actually knows who I am?" Etean shook his head, "Come on Draco, _Lord Etean_ would never been seen dead in a place like this."

"I don't follow you."

"Eric knows me," Etean shrugged again, "he just thinks I'm someone else that's all. Well actually he has bugger all idea who the hell I am," he cast his gaze around the room, "I daresay he doesn't know five people in here. Anonymity is about the only attractive feature of this establishment."

Draco's sneer deepened, "Come here to blend in do you?"

"Something like that, yes," Etean's face twisted into a grin, "This place can be fun though."

"You have a strange idea of fun," Draco sighed.

"Oh I do, do I? I don't think so," Etean casually drew up his sleeve, "Let me show you." He raised his arm and pointed across the pub to a table near the fireplace. A single dishevelled wizard sat at the table, nursing a mug of something that steamed. "You see him?"

"Yeah," Draco frowned, "Who is he?"

"No one really," Etean shook his head, "Just a patron of this establishment, with a strange view on personal hygiene. Watch him."

Draco complied. Etean gestured with his hand and the wizard sat bolt upright in his chair, as though someone had grabbed him at the shoulders and pulled him up. Etean flexed his fingers slightly. Slowly the man raised his hand and held it above the single candle on the table. Draco looked back to Etean, whose attention was still focused on the wizard.

"What are you doing?"

"Just watch," Etean said without breaking his concentration. Slowly, Etean moved his hand down. As he did so, the wizard lowered his hand into the flame of the candle. His expression changed into a grimace of pain. Etean continued to lower his hand and the wizard, despite his obvious discomfort, lowered his closer to the flame. His expression continued to show how much pain he was feeling, but he didn't move his hand. Instead, he lowered it still further, until the pain got so much that he started to scream and howl, but he didn't move his hand from the flame. Draco could barely stand to watch. Eric and the other patrons simply ignored the noise. This kind of behaviour was apparently not something unusual in this establishment. Etean kept his little game up for a full minute before he finally relented. He lowered his arm and the wizard was free. The man swore loudly and ran out of the bar, holding his scorched hand.

Etean turned to look at Draco, his expression was blank, "Is that what you consider fun?"

"No," he answered, "Not exactly. How did you do that?"

Etean smiled, "Want to learn eh? We'll get to that, its easier than you might think." He drained his mug, "Come on," he said, "let's go."

"Go? Where?" Draco asked, but then thought better of it, "Wait, I don't care, let's go somewhere else, anywhere else. This place stinks!"

"Sensitive aren't you? OK then."

Etean reached into his robes and drew out a small silver ball. He squeezed it in his hand and it started to glow, then he extended his hand towards Draco. "Touch it," he said.

Draco hesitated before reaching out and placing his hand on the orb. The world winked out, followed briefly by the familiar, unpleasant tug behind his navel as the portkey pulled him out of the inn. When the world came back, he was blinded by a sudden, bright light.

Draco blinked and looked around to see that he was standing in the lobby of a museum. He recognised it as the Louvre instantly, having been here many times before. It was the middle of the afternoon and, beneath the glass pyramid of the lobby, the place was packed. Dozens of muggles were milling about, chatting, or taking pictures of the sculptures that stood, dotted throughout the lobby. Not one of them seemed to have even noticed that two adolescent wizards had just appeared out of nowhere.

"Erm Etean," Draco said quietly, "Should we be here?"

Etean frowned, "What do you mean? This is a public museum you know."

"I know that, I meant we…well we shouldn't be here like this," he tugged on the front of his robes.

Etean didn't seem to get the point, "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

"Wizards are not supposed to be seen by muggles in public," he spoke, not really believing that he was having this conversation, "We are supposed to blend in around muggles. This isn't exactly the way to dress in front of them."

"Muggles?" Etean's frown deepened, "Them?" he shook his head, "Don't worry about them Malfoy. It may have escaped your notice but they don't seem to be too worried about it, do they?"

Draco looked around. Less than five feet away, a muggle couple were posing for a picture next to a small orange statue. Draco looked over his shoulder and realised that he was standing between the couple and the person taking the picture. Neither the photographer nor the couple seemed to be aware of him. Draco walked up to the couple and waved in their face, no reaction. There was a flash from behind him as the picture was taken, and the couple moved from their pose. Draco had to jump aside to stop the man from colliding with him.

He turned back to Etean, confused, "They…they can't see us can they?"

"Ten points to you," Etean said sarcastically, "No, they can't see us," he turned on his heel, "You had better stay close," he called over his shoulder, "The charm has a very limited range."

Etean headed off, picking his way through the crowd. Draco had to hurry to keep up with him. He joined in at the back of a large crowd of muggles as they bustled off through a large set of doors into the main museum complex.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he ducked between an elderly couple.

"I would have thought that was pretty obvious even to you," said Etean without turning round, "They," he pointed to the people around them, "are a bunch of muggles and they are going on a tour of the finer works in the museum. We are going to tag along."

"Why?"

Etean shrugged as he looked with apparent interest at a large, bronze statue, "No reason really, it will kill time for us while we have a little chat. Plus, they are headed in the direction that we need to go so we may as well follow them."

"Oh," Draco shook his head, "OK then."

The crowd moved as the tour guide called them to follow her. Etean strolled along after them. They started down a long corridor, pausing every few minutes as the guide explained the details about some painting or other. Etean seemed to be genuinely interested in what she was saying, Draco couldn't care less.

"Do you really find this nonsense interesting?"

Etean waited for the guide to finish and move on before he answered, "Interesting?" he looked at Draco, "Yes, it's very interesting, Draco. Some of these muggle artists were quite talented, you know?"

"Yes but," Draco sighed, "What does being here have to do with…anything?"

"Nothing," Etean said simply, "I just like art, that's all. But," he said, almost reluctantly, "I suppose, we should get to business. Have you heard from your father?"

"What does Lucius have to do with this?"

"More than you know," Etean answered, then waved the question off, "but he is out of it for the moment, I was really only asking out of curiosity. In any case, I don't expect Azkaban to hold him for long, and I suspect he that will try to contact you fairly soon after he is free."

"Is that a fact?" Draco blinked. Etean certainly did seem to know a lot about him, and his family, a lot more than Draco was really comfortable with. He pushed that thought aside for the moment, Etean's statement, from wherever it had come, made a lot of sense. The thought of helping his father, who would almost certainly be a fugitive from the law, made his heart race. Getting dragged into Lucius' little games…or worse was not something he was looking forward to. If Lucius got out of Azkaban, that would be all well and good for him, but Draco knew one thing, he wanted no part of it. Whether he would be offered a choice on the other hand…he sighed, "My father has been scheming and plotting and interfering in my life for as long as I can remember. It's the way it's always been. I try not to think about him if I can avoid it."

"Is that so? Interesting…" Etean stopped beside a small stone statue of an eagle. The tour had stopped to admire a large landscape on the opposite wall. Etean turned to Draco, "We're here."

Draco frowned, "We're where?"

"Where we're supposed to be of course," Etean raised his hand and touched the statue. A large silver ring on his middle finger glowed briefly. Draco heard a strange gurgling sound coming from all around him. He looked around to identify a source for the noise, and was surprised to see the archway beside him filling with water. The level rose rapidly and, in seconds, the entire arch was full. The muggle tour continued on, first the guide, and then the rest of the tour passed through the water, apparently not even noticing that it was there. Draco saw them continue on past the archway unheeded, to the next interesting painting. Etean clasped Draco's shoulder and gestured at the standing sheet of water, inviting Draco to step through.

"Well?" he said when Draco hesitated, "Go on then, it won't bite you." The sarcastic tone in his voice angered Draco. He shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and stepped through the arch. A wave of ice washed over him for a moment, and then he felt warm air again. Draco opened his eyes. He was still standing in the corridor, but something wasn't right. The muggles were gone for one thing, hadn't they just been there? The paintings were gone too, and in their place stood a series of darkened recesses. Draco couldn't make out what they contained. Bewildered, he turned around and looked back through the arch. He could see muggles continue to walk into the water and vanish. Draco jumped aside as Etean emerged beside him.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"We're still in the museum," Etean answered calmly, "Still in the same corridor in fact."

Draco stared at the water, the muggles were still passing into the far side and vanishing, "Where are they going?"

"They are here in the corridor, continuing their tour."

Draco turned back to Etean, "You're talking in riddles again."

"Yes I am, sorry," Etean smiled, "Think of it like this. This corridor is both a secret place and a public place. For most people, even most wizards, that come here, this corridor is as the muggles see it, as you first saw it, full of fine art and museum patrons. For others though, a very select few others, it is much more. I think I should give you the tour, and then maybe you will understand." Etean turned and walked towards the nearest darkened alcove. As he approached, torches ignited on either side of the darkness to reveal a large portrait on the wall. Etean stood next to the painting and turned to face Draco again, "You know him?" he gestured at the painting.

Draco looked at the image. Unlike most paintings he was used to, this one didn't move, it was as still and unchanging as the rest of the muggle art in the museum. The painting was a portrait of an old man, a wizard by the look of him. He wore plain silver robes, matching his long, arrow straight, silver hair. His face was stern and set. It was a face Draco had seen before, he recognised him instantly. There wasn't a witch or wizard who wouldn't have.

"Merlin!" he exclaimed, surprised at how much pride he felt at getting the question right, "That's a portrait of Merlin."

"Very good," Etean nodded, "You're scoring high today. Yes," he turned briefly to the portrait, "this is Merlin, who, as you remember from your reading, was the first of the wizard Emperors of Europe. He lived and died over two thousand years ago and, yet, he is still remembered today," Etean turned to Draco, "Do you know why he is remembered?"

Draco nodded, "He was the most powerful wizard of his time, maybe even of all time. Single-handedly, he managed to unite the warring magical tribes of Europe under one banner, and he kept them together for almost a century. He invented most of the spells we take for granted today and…" Draco's voice trailed off when he saw the smirk on Etean's face. "What?"

"Oh nothing, nothing at all, I was just wondering when you were going to stop quoting that damned book."

"You asked!" said Draco indignantly.

"I know, I know," Etean waved him off, "Well yes, everything you said is true, but the important point here is, do you know _how_ he became the most powerful wizard of all time?"

"Well he…erm" Draco foundered, he should know this, shouldn't he? "Well… wasn't he just born that way?"

"No," Etean shook his head, "Not quite. Merlin was skilled from birth, of that there is no question. Unassisted, he managed to do something that no one before him had done, something that no one has been able to duplicate since."

"What?" Draco interrupted.

Etean paused and took a deep breath before he answered, "Here goes," he said, "When the universe was created, right back at the very beginning, there was magic. Not magic as we know it today, not even as Merlin knew it two thousand years ago, but it was magic nonetheless. That magic was infinitely powerful, too powerful to be described in words. There are some believe that it was that magic that created the universe itself, but that doesn't really matter," Etean moved closer to the painting, "What does matter is that, after the universe was born, the magic shattered. Infinite power divided into an infinite number of fragments, that scattered themselves throughout the whole of space and time. The vast majority of them merged into the world, infusing it with their power and creating magic as we know it today. Some vanished, lost forever in limbo, while a small few, the interesting ones as far as this story goes, survived, they were scattered with the rest through time, but they remained intact. Merlin," Etean pointed to the portrait again, "was the first wizard to figure this out. He devoted his life to studying these lost fragments, and, in the end, he came up with a way to find them, and harness their power. It wasn't easy, it took him years but he did it, he trapped one."

Draco's mouth hung open, "How?"

Etean laughed, "I knew that you'd jump to that part right off," he shrugged, "The answer is we don't know. Merlin never told anyone how he did it. I guess he didn't want anyone else to have that kind of power," Etean looked back at the painting, "What we do know is what he did with it. Merlin fashioned a gem to hold the fragment and to channel and focus its power to do whatever he wanted. That is why we remember him and speak his name with reverence. That is how he forged the Empire. While he had the fragment, he could do almost anything. There were none that could oppose him." Etean paused and pointed at the painting. "Take a look," he said, "the proof is right there." Draco looked at the painting again, this time his eyes were drawn downward. Merlin was holding golden sceptre in his hand, cradling it like a baby. The sceptre was studded with jewels, but, at its end was a gem that made the rest fade to insignificance. Draco was mesmerised by it, it sparkled even from within the painting.

Etean continued talking, "The Qui-del Zahar," he said slowly, "The Essence of Purity. That's what it was called. Merlin bore that sceptre, and that stone all his days."

Draco continued to stare at the gem. Etean stepped closer to the painting and reached into a darkened recess below it. When he took his hand, he was holding a sceptre, the same sceptre that Merlin was holding in the portrait. "Look familiar?" he said, turning to hand the sceptre to Draco. Draco took it and looked at it. It was stunning. He couldn't even guess as to its value. The gold was polished to a dazzling shine and engraved with a delicate, almost organic pattern of lines and curves. The collective shimmer of the many jewels was so bright that Draco almost had to squint just looking at them. Draco's eyes roved over the piece, and were drawn to the top, to the focus of the sceptre, but something was missing. The central jewel mounting was empty, the gem had been removed.

"What happened to the stone?"

"What happens to all powerful things," Etean replied, "It was passed on. For all his power, Merlin was not immortal." Etean took the sceptre back and replaced it in its alcove. "He lived and died in the normal way, and when he was gone he passed the stone and its power to…" he stepped away and walked to the next alcove. As the last one had, this one lit up as he approached. Another painting hung here, of a woman. Again she didn't move, she was as still as Merlin beside her.

"Genusia!" Etean declared, "Daughter of Merlin, Empress of Europe, Queen of the World," he paused, "I'm paraphrasing of course but that is the jist of what the title she fashioned for herself translates to." Draco looked up at her. She wore robes of deep royal blue, her face surrounded by her silver hair resembled her father's. She wore the same stern expression he had. On her head she wore a silver crown, studded with jewels and in the centre…

"There it is, the Qui…whatever you called it."

"The Qui-del Zahar," Etean repeated, "Yes that's it. Genusia chose to wear it in her crown. She was the youngest of Merlin's seven children, and she inherited her father's mantle, though not his quite, peace loving disposition." Etean again reached into the alcove, this time he withdrew a crown, Genusia's silver crown, again, minus the central jewel. Draco examined it briefly before returning it to Etean so they could move on.

They continued down the length of the corridor. Each story was similar, each emperor or empress had born the Qui-del Zahar in a different manner. Some on sceptres, some in crowns, one, Alterix the second, had even worn it in place of his right eye! In each case, the mounting upon which each of them had carried the stone in remained by their image, all without the jewel. The pattern continued until, at last, they came to the final alcove, the one that held Charon's picture, and the golden chest plate on which he had born the gem. As before, the stone was missing, but this was different, this time, after the introduction, Etean paused.

"Now," he said, replacing Charon's breastplate in its alcove, "You read the book, so tell me, what happened after Charon?"

Draco cast his mind back to dredge up the answer, "Charon died without an heir," he said, "He had no one pass his throne to. After he was gone, there was a dispute over the succession of the throne. Some of the more powerful wizards governing the outer provinces tried to break away from the empire. Other governors declared themselves Emperor unilaterally. Fifty years of civil war and revolution followed, as the empire tore itself asunder, leading to a dark age of sorts. If it hadn't been for the likes of Slytherin and Gryffindor, the magical world may have self destructed entirely."

Etean listened as Draco spoke, and nodded when he finished, "Good," he said, "That pretty much summarises what the history books recorded, but," he held up a finger, "they didn't record everything," Etean walked away from the alcove and started to pace, "Charon was no fool. He knew that after he was gone war would follow. Even if he had of chosen someone to take his place it would have done no good, he knew it would only delay the inevitable. The fact is that the world was tired of the Empire. It was only by the sheer might of the Emperors that it had lasted as long as it did, and Charon knew it. At the same time, he knew that he couldn't allow the power of the Qui-del Zahar to fall into the wrong hands. So, Charon, in his last official act as Emperor, made and carried out a decision that would affect the lives of every wizard for the rest of history."

"What did he do?"

"He shattered the stone! The day he died he broke the Qui-del Zahar into twelve equal fragments. These pieces were entrusted to the twelve members of the Council of Avignon."

"Who?"

"You know," Etean shook his head, "If you insist on continually interrupting me, this is going to take a long time."

"Sorry."

"That's better. The Council of Avignon had existed for as long as the Empire had. Its members were advisors to the Emperors on all matters of state. They were the ones the Emperors trusted above all others.

"Charon gave each of the council members a single fragment, to use as they would. He knew that they could not hope to keep the Empire together, but he tasked the council with preserving the ideals and knowledge that the Empire represented. It was to be their job to ensure that the world didn't self destruct completely as it fell into chaos and war," Etean jabbed a finger at Draco, "You say that it was Slytherin, Gryffindor and their allies that held the world together, and you're right to an extent, but they didn't do it alone. They could not have done it without the help of the Council. Without them, your world would not exist today."

"Is that so? So how come I have never heard of them?"

Etean scoffed, "Because that is how they wanted it to be. After Charon died, the members of the council knew that they were in danger. They were the last public symbol of a government that was falling apart fast. They knew that, in order for them to survive, they would have to disappear. They made no attempt to hold onto the power of the emperor, choosing instead to gauge the strengths and weaknesses of the various factions. When the wars inevitably started, they simply slipped away, fashioned new, quieter identities for themselves and got to work."

"But how could they just vanish? If they were as important as you say, surely they would have been recognised."

"They vanished because they chose to," Etean's voice became suddenly stern. "They were trained in magical arts that you have never even dreamed of, better trained than any other wizards of their time, and they had at their disposal a power that none could match. Who is to say that they couldn't just vanish?"

"So where did they go?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"Nowhere," was the answer, "The just became people. In public they acted as ordinary wizards, had jobs, got married, had kids the works. In private however it was a different story, they each had a lifetimes experience in the real way that politics worked. They knew all the cracks, every back door. Silently they moved into the shadows and positioned themselves so that they could influence the outcome of the wars. They chose who won and who lost. They decided what new powers would rise to fill the vacuum left by the Empire's demise. I suppose it wasn't even that tough, a nudge here, a quiet shove there and the world danced to their tune."

"I don't believe it. It can't be that simple for to manipulate history."

"Really? Are you sure? Who am I Draco?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's a simple question, who am I?"

"Great, more mind games. OK I'll play. You're Robert Etean."

"That's right now, what am I?"

"You mean other than a colossal pain in the neck?"

"Apart from that yes. I have a title, what is it?"

"Lord Etean...though I could suggest a few others if you'd like."

"Correct again," Etean raised his eyebrow, but ignored the comment, "Do you know what it means to be Lord Etean?"

Draco folded his arms and sighed, "No, what?"

"It means that people listen to me. I told you when we first met that my birthday party was really about was self important people wanting to be my friend. You must know why…"

"Politics?"

"Yes, politics," Etean spat the word, "For three centuries, no decision has been made by the French Administrative Committee without the support of the Lord Etean. I am the fifteenth person to hold that title, all those who came before me played a large role in the way the French government operated. Every vote cast, every debate argued, every decision that was made. If someone on the Committee sneezed, Lord Etean received a detailed report."

"But even so," Draco frowned, "Its not like you're all powerful or anything, is it?"

"No," Etean shook his head, "I'm not. In fact, in legal terms, I have very little power indeed, but that doesn't matter…politicians are people, Draco. People _listen_ to me. All I need to do is whisper a polite suggestion in the right ear at the right time…who is to say what I can't achieve?"

Draco paused, he had been a 'guest' at enough stuffy parties to know just how much of what appeared to be idle chitchat turned out to be big business. He'd seen Lucius conduct million galleon deals over a punchbowl or two. Lucius had always had an agenda, it was true, and it was true that attending those parties and having those little chats had often times been his means of carrying that agenda out. Suppose this was no different. Suppose this was merely the same process at a larger scale…

He turned to Etean, wondering just how grand the scale really was, "And you're a member of this Council of Avignon?"

"No," Etean shook his head, "that name died with the Empire. We are The Circle."

"The Circle?"

"Yes, time passed and the council changed. The reality of our situation forced us to adapt and grow. New members were brought in to replace those that died while other were trained to aid our work, filling needs as they were identified. We chose to become The Circle, the secret hand behind civilisation. We are in every shadow, every dark corner watching, waiting for the right time to make our move. No important choice is made that the Circle doesn't know about, or approve of."

Draco's mouth was dry, the secret hand of civilisation? Something told him that that wasn't meant as a euphemism, Etean didn't strike him as the poetic type. He couldn't believe what Etean had just told him. The sheer scale of it baffled him. A thought forced its way into his mind. He remembered what had brought him here.

"What…what does all this have to do with me?"

"I'd have though you could have guessed that by now. Out of each generation, a few worthy candidates are chosen to be brought within the circle and given a chance to be a part of something truly important. We have chosen to offer that privilege to you."

"Me?"

"Yes," Etean looked him in the eye, "You," he stepped forward, "I want you to understand what we are talking about here, Draco. Within the circle, anything is possible. Within the Circle, you will have the chance to learn things you can't even imagine now. You could learn more about magic in a day than Hogwarts could teach in a lifetime. You asked how I made that man in the inn hurt himself. This is your chance to learn how, and learn more besides, much more."

Draco took a breath, "Why me?"

Etean hesitated for a moment, "That is something I cannot tell you," he said, "Not all of it anyway, not yet. What I can tell you is that the selection was not made lightly. Many factors contributed to this, some you would understand, some you wouldn't." He reached out and grasped Draco's shoulder. "It won't be easy, you will be tested and you may fail before the end, but we didn't make a mistake in this, Draco. Whatever else you believe, believe that. You are the one to whom this was to be offered."

Draco raised his head and looked Etean in the eye, "I don't believe this."

"I know you don't," Etean smiled, "Believe me that is the best way to start. For now, think about this. I told you when we first met that you were free to choose and I meant it. Now you have been told what is on offer. You know what you could gain, and I think you are smart enough to know what it will cost. I leave it to you, this time I can only give you one day to consider your response. At this time tomorrow I will find you, and you will give me your answer, and note, it will be your _final_ answer, 'Yes' or 'No', once and for all. If you accept, then we shall progress to the next stage, if you decline, then that will very likely be the last time we meet. You will be allowed to return to your life as it was."

Etean released Draco and stepped back, "It's about time I left you," he said, checking his watch, "Two things. First, you may remain here as long as you like. You leave the way you entered – do I need to tell you not to try to steal anything?" Draco shook his head. "Good enough," Etean nodded, "Second, the Circle is not to be exposed. If you speak of any of this to a living soul…" his eyes flashed with silver fire.

"I understand," Draco said.

"OK then, good night Draco Malfoy."

Pop!

He was gone leaving Draco alone.


	4. A Long Night

            Hermione yawned.  It wasn't that she was bored – far from it, she loved art.  The Louvre was like Mecca to her, she was just tired.  The events of the last few weeks were enough to keep her awake at night.  Sirius had died, she missed him.  He wasn't as close to her as he was to Harry but it still hurt. His death had finally made the truth of the situation land home.  They were at war!  Voldemort was back and now that everyone knew it, he didn't have to hide anymore.  It was only a matter of time before more people were killed.  She felt bad about coming on holiday with her parents when so much was going on, but she couldn't think of what to tell them.  She still hadn't told them about any of it.  She just couldn't bring herself to.  They had been so eager for her to come.  She had resisted at first but eventually, she had agreed.  The real reason she had agreed caused a lump to rise in her throat – it was possible, even likely that she wouldn't survive what was coming.  This might be her last chance to go on holiday with them.  The thought of not seeing them again terrified her.  She felt the tears begin to fill her eyes again, as they did every night but she forced herself not to cry.  She looked around and discovered that she was alone, the tour had moved on without her.  She had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn't even noticed them leave.  '_Damn, which way did they go?_'

            It was a fifty-fifty choice, left or right.  She bit her lip and headed down the corridor to her right.  She wandered for what seemed like hours down the countless, near identical corridors before she gave up, she would just have to return to the lobby and wait for them.  The problem was that with all the wandering she had done, she now had no idea where she was or how to get to the lobby.  She looked around for someone to ask, did any of them speak English?  But there was no one in sight.  Biting her lip again, she continued on, rounded a corner walked into a solid wall of black cloth heading the other way.  With a yelp she tumbled over and landed hard on the tiled floor.  She sat up, and took the hand that was offered to her.  As she stood up, she winced at the pain in her ankle, she must have twisted it.

            "Ouch…sorry," she said, brushing herself off.  "I didn't see you there."

            "It's alright, I wasn't paying much attention either," was the reply.  Hermione snapped her head up and looked at the person standing next to her, she knew that voice.  "Malfoy?  What are you doing here?"  Malfoy looked at her, he seemed confused for a moment.  Then his eyes widened as he recognised her.

            "Granger?  Great this day just gets better and better.  What do you mean what am I doing here?  It's a bloody museum!  Last time I checked it wasn't illegal to visit a museum."

            "I know that Malfoy…I was just surprised to see you here is all."  She shook her head and looked at him again, then she noticed what he was wearing.  "Hang on Malfoy, what are you playing at walking around dressed like that?"  Malfoy looked confused, like he didn't know what she meant.  She looked around, the corridor was deserted, for the moment they were alone.  She reached into her jeans pocket and took out her wand.  Malfoy opened his mouth to question her.  She didn't give him the chance.

            "Shut up Malfoy, don't move."  Hastily she pictured him wearing muggle clothes, something ordinary that wouldn't attract attention.  She stepped back from him, made sure that they were still alone and pointed her wand at his chest.  "Chamelous!"  A burst of purple light shot out of the end of her wand and enveloped Malfoy.  When it faded, he was standing there dressed in the outfit she had pictured, a black silk shirt and slate grey slacks.  Malfoy looked himself over before looking at her again.

            "Not bad Granger, you'd make a good tailor."

            "Oh shut it Malfoy.  What the hell were you playing at, dressing like that in front of muggles?"

            "Spare me the lecture will you.  If I'd known I was going to come here, I would have dressed for the occasion.  As it was, I…well I just kind of wound up here."  His expression changed, he seemed to grow distant, his mind went somewhere else for a moment, then he recovered himself.  "Anyway, no harm done, you saved the day again.  It's nice to know you're good for something Granger."

            "Oh just shut it will you?  Just…" her voice trailed off as the tears came back.  She just wasn't able to cope with another round of Malfoy and his arrogant bullshit, not today.  Draco saw her cry and it bothered him.  He had no idea why but it did, he felt bad that she was in pain.

"What's wrong?"  She wiped her eyes hard with her hand and looked him in the eye.

"What do you care?  It's none of your business anyway."

"Oh fine, be like that then.  I was _trying_ to be polite Granger."

"Polite?  You?  To me?  Come off it Malfoy, I'm not in the mood for you and your stupid games today so just leave it will you?"

"Fine, have it your way.   Bye."  He turned to leave.  Hermione remembered that she still didn't know the way out.  '_Shit_'

"Malfoy," she called out after him.  He stopped and turned to face her.

"What?"

"Where are you going?"

"That's none of _your_ business Granger.  Why?"

"Because I…I don't know the way out.  I'm lost."  Malfoy's face lit up with his customary, annoying smirk.

"Really?  Too busy correcting peoples dress sense to keep track of where you are eh?"

"Look, for once can you try and not be such an arrogant prat Malfoy?  Do you know the way to the lobby or not?"

"OK, if you need a guide come on.  Follow me and try not to get lost this time."  He turned and headed down the corridor, Hermione had to jog for a minute to catch up.  They walked on in silence for a few minutes.  Draco couldn't believe it, he had completely forgotten about the fact that he would have stood out in muggle Paris dressed as he had been.  Annoying as it was, Granger had done him a big favour.  At least this way they would be even, he couldn't bear to have owed her for that favour.  His reaction to her crying still bothered him and now the silence between them was bothering him.

"So…never been to the Louvre before?"  He asked, desperate to end the silence.

"What?...No…Well I mean yes."

"Care to try again?"

"I have been here before, but not since I was five.  I don't even remember the last time I was here."

"Still, it's not that hard to keep track of where you're going.  Especially seeing as how you're used to navigating round Hogwarts.  That place makes this seem positively open plan by comparison."

"I know…I don't really know what happened.  I got separated from the tour my parents and I were taking.  After I noticed that I was alone, I just kind of wandered around for a while looking for them and that's when I bumped into you."

"Ran into me is more like it.  Oh well I guess you would have found your way out eventually, there are enough staff here that would have shown you the way."

"Maybe, but I couldn't have asked them, I don't speak French."

"What?  Something you don't know Granger?  I'm shocked."

"Contrary to popular belief I don't know everything.  It just looks that way to morons like you."  Draco stopped and turned to face her.

"Careful Granger, remember which one of us actually knows where he is."

"Sorry."

"That's better."  He turned and started walking again, she followed.  "Besides, you don't actually need to speak French to talk to a French person.  Contrary to popular belief," his tone was a high falsetto, mocking her earlier tone, she glared at him, he smirked again.  "Contrary to popular belief Granger, quite a few French people actually speak English.  Even if they don't all you have to do is keep saying exit, exit and act like a silly girl and they'll soon figure it out."

"My god Malfoy, you really can be a prick when you want to."

"Yes it's tough I know but I'm charming enough to pull it off."  He flashed her a grin, a genuine one this time.  She stopped in her tracks and stared at him.

"I don't believe it, was that a joke Malfoy?"

"Don't look so shocked Granger, I do have a sense of humour you know?"

"Yes well…you've certainly hidden it well over the years."

"Yes…maybe…I guess things change.  Ah, here we are, Voila!"  He gestured with his hand, they were in the lobby.  Hermione could see her parents talking to someone, a museum employee.  Probably asking about her, they must have been worried about her.  She started to walk over to them.  She got five steps before she remembered Malfoy.  She turned to face him.

"Well, thank you.  Erm…goodbye Malfoy."

"Goodbye Granger, careful you don't get lost again."  He smiled again, Hermione found herself returning it.

"Thanks, I'll try not to."  She turned and ran off to her parents.  Her mother crushed her in a hug.  Even from this distance Draco could see the relief on her fathers face.  A surge of jealousy ran through him.  His parents had never been so worried about him in all his life.  He had always pretty much been expected to take care of himself.  He had been raised to despise muggles and everything about them but he couldn't stop himself from wishing to trade places with Granger for a moment, just once to have someone actually care about him like that.  The thought stayed with him as he walked across Paris to the hotel he was staying in.  It was still with him as he got undressed and got into the shower.  As the water cascaded over his face, he found himself fixating on the moment when she had started to cry.  It really had bugged him but he still couldn't figure out why, he had spent the last five years positively despising Granger and everything about her so what the hell had gotten into him.

He turned the water off and got out of the shower, he picked up a towel and started to dry himself off, still trying to figure it out until he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

"What's wrong with you?"  He asked his reflection.  "You have more important things to be thinking about tonight."  He forced his mind back to the museum and what he had been thinking of before he had met the mudblood.  The things Etean had said.  He had a decision to make.  He had stayed in that corridor for over an hour after Etean had left, thinking about what he had been offered.  He had looked again into the frozen eyes of the long dead emperors and empresses, trying to sort it all out in his head.

He left the bathroom and headed out into his suite.  He crossed over to the window and looked out at the street far below.  People, on foot and in muggle cars passed by in an endless swarm, they reminded him of the endless stream of thoughts running through his head.  He found himself fixating on one thing out of all Etean had said – '_You are smart enough Draco to know what it will cost_'.  At the time it hadn't registered but he actually didn't have a clue what Etean had meant.  Or did he?

He could certainly narrow the possibilities.  It wouldn't be money, Etean had enough money to buy and sell Draco a thousand times.  It wasn't property, everything in the family estate was in Lucius' name not his so what did that leave.  All that remained was him.  Something about him, something he could do for them, something that they wanted him to do for them but what?  He sat on the edge of his bed and tried in vain to figure it out.  In the end he gave up and lay back on the bed.  He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind.  As he did, his thoughts flashed in rapid succession before his mind's eye.  One image in particular remained, Granger crying.  Damn it, he just couldn't get her out of his mind.  She stood there as he remembered her, tears running down her face.

Then she changed, her face became colder and her mouth turned upward into a wicked smile.  She opened her mouth and laughed, as cold and evil a sound as he could imagine.  He shivered at the thought.  She continued to change, she wasn't Granger anymore, her face had changed, a man now stood before him.  A man Draco had never actually seen but who had dominated his dreams, his nightmares, all his life.  His eyes slammed open, he must have fallen asleep, it was just a dream.  He broke out in a cold sweat – "Voldemort!"  He sat up.  That was it.

Etean had never so much as mentioned him.  Thinking about it now, it was a strange thing that he hadn't considering what he claimed The Circle did.  Voldemort had to appear in their plans somewhere; the only question was, were they with him, or against him?  Well that wasn't really a question, if they were on his side why bother with Draco. Why didn't they just contact him directly and offer their services?  No, it was far more likely that they were against him and that they had some plans to use Draco to hurt him, maybe even destroy him.  It made sense, it really did.  Lucius was Voldemort's lieutenant, his right hand man and all signs pointed to Draco following in his father's footsteps one day.  So that was why they had chosen him, they wanted a mole in Voldemort's organisation.  They wanted him to get in, to get close to Voldemort.  Close enough to…

He shivered, out of fear not because it was cold.  He got up and went back to the window.  Go up against Voldemort?  His mind froze in terror at the very thought, he could never do that, could he?  Based on what he had seen, it was clear that Etean had a few tricks up his sleeve.  If Draco knew a few of those, maybe he could do it, but did he want to?  Did he really want Voldemort destroyed?  He had never even thought about it before.  He had always been too afraid to.  He had just gone along with all his father's plans and assumed that to follow Voldemort was his destiny.  Now?  Could he change it?  Could The Circle be his way out?

He stood there, the same thoughts running through his mind over and over again.  It wasn't until the sun appeared, peeking over the tops of the buildings that he made his mind up.  He lowered his head and sighed.

"How long have you been there?"

"Me?  I just got here."  Was the reply from the shadows by the door.  Etean stepped out into the light as Draco turned around.  "How did you know I was here?"  Draco laughed this time.

"Simple really.  You let me in on a secret, one which you are willing to kill for unless I read you wrong.  It makes sense for you to keep an eye on me.  Plus something tells me that around you, my thoughts are not really all that private.  I just made my mind up, and here you are.  Am I wrong?"  Etean paused, and then applauded briefly.

"Bravo, that's the first time you have actually figured something out for yourself.  Well done."  He walked over and sat on a chair opposite Draco.  "So, you still have time left to change your mind.  I can leave and come back."

"Yeah, leave, I'm sure you would but I doubt you'd go far even if I asked you to."

"Maybe not but you can still ask."

"I know, but I don't see the point do you?"

"Not really.  So…?"

"So what?"

"You are supposed to give me your answer."  Draco laughed again.

"You need to ask?  You can read my mind, you already know the answer."

"Yes, but you need to say it, out loud.  We have to stick to the rules."

"Right.  First, how much of what I was thinking about last night did you listen in on?"

"Not much, I just got the highlights."

"OK, but was I right.  No bullshit this time Robert.  Is The Circle going after Voldemort?"  Etean seemed pensive, he cocked his head to the side and looked up at Draco.

"Yes."  Draco felt a hard lump form in his gut.  He had seen it coming but it still hit him like a rampaging hippogriff.  He lowered his head and stared at the floor.

"And you want to use me to bring him down.  I am going to have to face him."  Again Etean paused, longer this time, and then he frowned and stood up.

"To answer your question simply, yes.  There is a high chance that you will.  But you will not do so alone, The Circle protects it's own."  He walked over and clasped Draco's shoulder the same way he had before he had left the museum.  He waited for Draco to raise his head and look him in the eye before he spoke again.  "I need your answer, but you do still have time to rethink this."

"I know, but if I spend any more time thinking about this, I'll go insane."  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  "I'm in!"  Etean nodded.  "What happens now?"

"Now, we have to train you.  You need to be ready for when the time comes.  I will warn you though.  The initial stages of the training are the toughest."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you are weak and we have to make you strong before you can begin to master the skills you will need."

"When do we start, what must I do?"

"We start as soon as possible, everything is ready, the hotel has been paid for and your travel arrangements have been cancelled.  We shall be using alternate means to get where we're going.  We can leave whenever you are ready."  Draco thought about it, there really wasn't any sense hanging around, he had no one to contact, what would he tell them anyway?

"Let's go."


	5. The First Lesson

            Looking back, Draco could hardly remember the journey.  They had travelled so fast that he could barely even see where they were going.  One thing he did remember was their method of travel.  Etean's jet black stagecoach pulled by a dozen silver hippogriffs definitely stuck in the mind.  They had walked out of the front door of the hotel and there it stood, completely ignored by everyone who passed by.  It gleamed in the early morning sun.  It was elegant but at the same time it was simple, a golden symbol on the door was its only identifying feature, a large stylised eagles head.  Draco recognised it as the Etean family crest.  He remembered the huge velvet banner bearing that same symbol decorating the entrance hall of Etean's house near Marseilles.  That party seemed to have taken place decades ago, not just last summer.

            No sooner had they got in and closed the door but they were off, rocketing through the morning sky without a sound except for the beating of the hippogriffs' wings.  The journey had lasted no more than half an hour, a half hour of silence.  Draco had questions but Etean had told him to wait till they got where they were going before asking any and Draco was in no mood to argue.  The finality of the decision weighed heavily on him but he was certain that it was the right choice.  He was tired of being a pawn in his father's games.  At least this way he would have some control over his doom if that was what was to come.  He had chosen this on his own, his father hadn't been the one to make the decision for him.  He had sided with The Circle and he would have to face the consequences of his choice alone, whatever they may be.

            They landed with barely a bump and stepped out onto a grassy hilltop that was still wet with the morning dew.  A thick mist obscured all vision of anything over ten feet away.  The air smelled fresh, almost sweet.  Clearly they were in the countryside, nowhere near the city.  Through the fog Draco could just about make out the shape of a small building standing on the crest of the hill.  Etean headed over to the shape, Draco followed him.  Behind them, the carriage moved off without a sound.  As they got closer Draco could make out more of the details of the building, or what was left of it.  Maybe once it had been a house but not anymore, now it was little more than a pile of bricks and moss.  The only thing that remained even remotely intact was the front doorframe.  Amazingly, he could see that the door itself had survived the obvious decades of neglect that the rest of the structure had suffered.  Inside the building he could see that what was left of the floor was almost completely overgrown.  Some animal or other had made it their home in the not too distant past judging by the bones and scraps that lay scattered about inside.

            "What are we doing _here_?"

            "We are here to begin your training Draco."  Etean's tone was light, almost joking, "You remember? The Circle?"

            "Yes but…here?"  Etean smiled.  He reached out and closed the door.  He whispered something under his breath before knocking twice on the ancient, rotten boards.  Draco was amazed that they didn't shatter under the blows.  Etean stepped back and gestured Draco forward.

            "Open it."  Draco stepped forward and pushed the door, it was a lot heavier than it looked.  He had to push with all his strength to even budge it.  When it finally did open he stumbled forward, he found himself falling into the inky darkness that lay beyond.  Etean seized him by the back of the neck and held him back.  "Careful, that would have been a nasty fall."

"Thanks."  Draco got his balance back and looked into the doorway.  He could no longer see the inside of the building, in its place was a dark passageway.  The walls and floor were stone and looked as if they had been hacked into the side of a mountain.  Further in, he could see the top of a rough hewn stone staircase leading down into the gloom.  Etean patted him on the back.  "Lesson number one, nothing here is what it appears to be.  Go on, in you go."  Draco stepped forward into the passage and started down the stairs, Etean followed, closing the door behind them and plunging them into total darkness.  "Careful now, I might not catch you in time again," his voice sounded really eerie in the darkness, it seemed to echo forever off the cold stone.

            "I am being careful.  This would be a lot easier if I had some light."

            "You want light?  Then get a light."

            "How?"

            "Are you a wizard or not Malfoy?"  Draco swore under his breath, he hadn't even considered using magic.  Somehow he thought that it was not the thing to do here.  In the darkness he fumbled for his wand inside his robes.

"Lumos!"  He said, slightly startled by the sound of his voice, it seemed louder than he had intended as he cast the spell.  The end of his wand flared with a brilliant white light, it blinded him in the dark stairway.  When his eyes had adjusted, he turned to look back at Etean.  He looked like some sort of spectre in the harsh light of the spell.  "That's…that's better isn't it?"

            "Indeed.  Come on, we have a long way to go."  They continued slowly down the steps, they were very steep and roughly cut from the stone.  A couple of times Draco had to hastily grab for purchase on the wall to prevent him from plunging down into the darkness.  The stairway seemed to go on forever.

            "What is this place?"

            "A conduit.  This passage connects the world outside to the world inside."

            "Inside what?"

            "Inside The Circle of course.  This is the way in, one of them anyway."

            "The Circle is a place?  I thought it was just what you…people called yourselves."

            "It is, but we need somewhere to meet don't we?  A place we can gather in private."

            "And that's where we're going?"

            "Yes, the meeting place also serves as our academy.  It is where all new members are trained."

            "So…what should I be expecting at the bottom of this?"

            "It's hard to say, I doubt it will be what you think it will be.  I know it isn't what I thought it would be when I first came here."

            "When _did_ you first come here?"

            "Years ago.  I was five at the time."  At this Draco stopped and turned to look at Etean.

            "Five?  As in five years old?"

            "Yes I was five when I was brought within The Circle, what of it?"

"Nothing it's just…wasn't that…" his voice trailed off into the darkness when he saw the look on Etean's face.

"Wasn't that what Malfoy?  Oh I see, you think that that was too young an age for me to enter?  Or is it that you think you are too old to begin as you are?"

            "No that's not it I…I was just…I mean I don't know.  How old are most people when they are 'brought in'?"  Etean seemed irritated, a hint of frustration crept into his voice.

            "Different ages, each one has their own time.  We chose only the strong and only when they are ready.  Now we had better be going, or else we'll never get there."  Draco turned and continued down the stairs.  It was a few minutes before Etean spoke again.  "In a way you're right, I was young.  The youngest wizard ever initiated in the history of The Circle.  I was always gifted.  I'm told I was what you could call a prodigy.  The Council decided that I should be initiated early to prevent me from straying, to keep the skills I had from going to my head.  Hah, they did that alright."  He was silent for a minute more.  "Maybe I was too young I don't know.  But that's how it was."

            They continued down in silence, eventually the stairway ended and they came to a stone platform.  The stone was different here, whoever had carved it had apparently taken more time over this part than he had on the stairs.  Every surface of the stone had been smoothed and polished, almost to a mirror finish.  In the light of his wand, Draco could see himself reflected on the walls.  There was a single black door opposite the end of the stairs.  Etean stepped up to it and opened it with a shove.  Draco moved to pass through but Etean stopped him.

            "Draco Malfoy, you are about to enter The Circle.  Through here there is no turn, no chance to retreat.  Our rules of tradition dictate that I give you this one last chance to turn back.  Once through here, you will be bound to The Circle and to its fate.  Do you understand?"

            "I do."  Draco tried to make his voice sound confident, he didn't do a very good job of it.  Apparently satisfied, Etean stepped through the door and beckoned for Draco to follow him.  With a moment's hesitation, Draco stepped into the room.  The door behind him slammed shut with a deafening boom.  Draco extinguished his wand as he looked around, there was light enough for him not to need it.  The room they had entered was large and circular, maybe twenty feet across with a high ceiling.  The floor and walls were made of flat polished stone like that of the platform outside.  There was one other closed door leading out of the room.  It was heavy and black and was barred shut.  Three pillars were set into the floor at equal intervals.  They started off straight then curled over, winding their way up to frame a large glowing crystal in the centre of the ceiling.  That crystal was the source of the strangely eerie illumination in the room.  The light made the room seem sinister, it made Draco shiver.  He reached out to touch the nearest pillar, like the walls and floor the surface of the pillars was flat and polished.  The entire room was covered in countless glyphs and symbols of every size.  They were set into the walls, the floor, and the pillars, everywhere.  No space was wasted, every inch covered in interlocking shapes and patterns so complex and intricate that the walls seemed to move and pulse as Draco's eyes tried to follow them.  Etean moved into the centre of the room and turned to face Draco.

            "Draco Malfoy.  You are now a part of The Circle, though not yet a member.  You must prove yourself before you can be awarded that privilege and be trusted with our secrets.  From this moment on, your life is for The Circle above all things.  Its fate will bind your fate.  Its wishes shall outweigh yours.  What it needs, you will provide, when it commands, you shall obey.  If it says to run, you run, if it says to hide you hide, if it says to fight you fight, if it says to kill you kill, if it says to die…you die."  Etean's face was hard and set.  There was no doubting that he was being deadly serious.  Draco swallowed hard and nodded.

            "I understand."

            "Good, then I see no reason for us not to begin.  Stand here."  He moved off to the side, vacating the centre spot.  As he did a ring of glyphs on the floor started to glow.  Draco didn't move.  "Step into the ring!"  His voice rang with the same melody that it had on their first meeting as he repeated the command, Draco obeyed.  Etean walked over to one of the stone pillars.  At his touch a pattern of glyphs in the shape of an eye ignited on the stone.  He turned.  "Raise your wand!  Point it here."  Again Draco obeyed.  Etean moved away from the eye before he continued.  Draco turned his head to follow him.  "Eyes front!" he snapped, "Now, you remember I told you that we must make you strong before you could master what we teach here?"

            "Yes."

            "This is where we will do just that.  When I command you will repeat an incantation and we shall begin.  To stop it, you need only lower your wand.  Your sole goal in this is to keep your wand up for as long as you can.  Do you understand?"

            "Y…yes I do."

            "Good, then repeat after me…Avalarus!"

            "A…Avalarus!"

            For a moment nothing happened, the eye didn't respond.  Then a burst of energy shot out of it and hit Draco square in the chest.  It was pain like he had never felt before, his body writhed and convulsed in agony.  He felt as if his skin were being slowly burned off while at the same time, someone was tearing at his insides with razor sharp claws.  The room vanished, he forgot where he was, he couldn't remember _who_ he was, all he could feel was the pain.  All he knew was the pain.  Then darkness took him.  A single moment of blissful peace.  He felt something cold wash over him and he came to his senses.  He was lying on the floor looking up at Etean.

            "Pathetic, is that the best you can do Malfoy?"

            "P…pain."  It was little more than a whisper.  Etean knelt down beside him.

            "What did you say?"

            "Pain!"  It was louder this time, almost a shout but not quite.  "It hurt's!"

            "Of course it hurts Malfoy what did you think?  It would tickle?"  Etean didn't wait for his answer.  He stood up and pulled Draco upright.  "Again, and do better this time!"

            "Again?  I'm not doing that again, what are you trying to do?  Kill me?"

            "Actually Malfoy, I am trying to help you.  Again!"

            "No, fuck this!  I am not doing that again."  Draco turned to leave.  He got half way through the turn when he froze, unable to move.  He felt as if he were dreaming, he saw himself turn back to the eye and raise his wand.  He couldn't stop himself, he couldn't move his hand.  His eyes, he could move his eyes, he looked at Etean.  His arm was outstretched, pointing at Draco.  His eyes shone as he stared at him.  He spoke, his voice changed again, it now had the more sinister melody.

            "I told you we would have to do this the hard way Malfoy.  It seems I was right. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."  Draco couldn't answer.  He looked back to the eye, and saw his wand was pointed right at it.  He felt his mouth open.  He drew a breath to cast the spell, all his will was bent against it but it was no use.

            "Avalarus!"  He bellowed louder than before.  Again there was a moment of silence then the pain came again.

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            Draco lost track of how long they continued.  Each time Etean would force him to recite the incantation, each time the eye would blast him, and each time the pain would overwhelm him only for Etean to revive him and start all over again.  All the while, a strange buzzing noise filled Draco's head.  The sound was incessant, like a swarm of angry bees was trapped inside his skull.  The noise grew louder and louder each time Draco woke up after passing out until it had grown so loud that the noise alone was almost as painful as the energy from the eye.  Draco wanted it to stop; he would have given anything for it to stop.  But it didn't, Etean carried on without as much as a word.  Draco wasn't even able to beg him to stop, he couldn't even plead for mercy, Etean's will was too strong, it overpowered him.

Finally it was over, with one last, terrible burst of pain from the eye darkness took him and this time Etean allowed him to sleep.  Draco slipped into a dark dreamless void.  The buzzing faded into a gentle white noise in the background as he slept. 

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Draco opened his eyes and sat up.  The noise was gone but the pain wasn't, every part of him ached.  Despite the hours of sleep he was exhausted.  He was shaking all over.  He turned and sat on the edge of the cot he was lying on and lowered his head into his hands, trying desperately not to throw up.

"How do you feel?"  Etean's voice hit him like bolt of lightening.  His head snapped up and he looked up to see him sitting casually by one of the pillars, directly opposite him.  Rage boiled up within him, he wanted to strangle Etean with his bare hands.  He stood up to rush at him but he was too unsteady, his body wouldn't co-operate.  Instead of charging at Etean, he found himself wobbling about, staggering to his right in a desperate attempt to catch hold of the nearer pillar so he could remain upright.  He glared at Etean but it was a while before he managed to speak.

"I'm going to kill you."  He sounded hoarse, his throat was dry.  The image of Etean swam in and out of focus as he looked at him.  He shook his head, trying to clear it to no avail.  Etean stood up and walked toward him but stopped short.  He remained standing once again in the centre of the room.  He looked at Draco.  His face was set, showing no trace of his emotions.

"Are you?  I don't suppose I blame you.  That was a hard lesson, but I have already apologised for having to do it.  It was for your own good I assure you."

"My own good?  How was that…that…"  Draco stopped mid sentence, he bent double and heaved as he lost the battle to control his stomach.  As he wretched, he fought desperately not to fall to his knees, he didn't want to show defeat to this bastard.  It took a few moments for him to recover himself.  He straightened and looked back at Etean.  "You tortured me!"  His voice was a throaty rasp.  "How was that for my own good?"

"I had to Draco.  I knew from the moment we met in your room that I would have to.  You were too defiant to do it any other way.  The pain was necessary to break your spirit, to open your mind to what I was trying to teach you."

"Teach me?  You haven't even tried to teach me anything except what kind of person you really are and how much you enjoy hurting people."  Etean looked at him, his expression still blank.

"Is that so?  Well, if that's what you truly believe Malfoy, then come on."  He stood upright and extended his arms wide.

"What?"

"When you first woke up you wanted to attack me.  If you believe that all I am doing is torturing you for fun, then you better do it.  Attack me now.  I give you your chance.  If you don't, you will not be given another."  Draco stood up, adrenaline surged though him and he moved, charging straight at Etean, his hands outstretched to seize his throat.  He was inches away from him when Etean vanished, he hadn't seen him move, he just wasn't there anymore.  Finding himself over balanced, Draco tumbled over and went sprawling on the floor.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that, I thought you were going to kill me."  The voice came from behind him.  Draco shot up, still running on pure rage, he turned to see Etean standing by a pillar on the far side of the room.  Again he charged and again, Etean didn't move as he approached.  Again he was within an inch of him before Etean moved.  This time, Draco saw him move.  He moved fast, so fast all Draco saw was a blur flash past him.  Draco started to turn to follow the blur when he collided with the pillar.  Pain exploded in his left shoulder as it hit the stone.  Draco slid to his knees, howling in pain.  He looked up to see Etean; again standing on the opposite side of the room, his expression hadn't changed.

"I see you are never going to catch me like this.  Here, how about we even the odds."  He raised his arm and tossed Draco's wand to him.  It skittered to a halt inches from Draco's knee.  Without thinking, he snatched it up and rose, advancing once again on Etean.

"Let's see you dodge this…Crucio!"  Draco bellowed the unforgivable curse as loud as he could.  There was a burst of red light as the spell left his wand and flew straight at Etean.  Draco watched as it shot at him, then something strange happened, the spell seemed to slow in mid air until it was barely creeping along.  Etean looked past it, he looked right at him and smiled.

"OK!"  He stepped aside before the spell hit, it continued on through the now empty air and struck the wall behind him as he stepped back to the same spot he had started from.  Draco's mouth hung open, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"What?  How did you do that?" he stammered, his anger momentarily forgotten.

"You tell me."  Etean took a step forward and drew his hand back across his chest.  Draco saw the energy begin to sparkle on his fingertips.  His hand came forward and released a ball of red light, hurling it at Draco.

It was the strangest sensation Draco had ever felt.  The world seemed to glow, every surface was on fire.  He couldn't see Etean anymore, in his place was a blinding ball of white light.  His senses increased further; he could feel the walls of the room around him as if he were touching them, he could sense the rock beneath his feet, the cold stone that had never seen the light of the sun.  He could feel the insects in earth above and around him burrowing and slithering in their little holes and he could feel a great power surrounding him, a power that had could scarcely believe was real, yet he was certain that it was.  He was nearly lost in that power before it faded away as his attention was drawn in, focused nearer at hand.  The skin behind his ears tingled as something in his mind contracted.  That's how it felt, like a muscle contracting, just in his mind.  His eyes moved and locked onto the spell as it flew threw the air, everything else faded as he focused on the danger.  He could feel it; he knew what it was and what it could do to him.  Just as before, the spell seemed to slow down in the air, but this time it didn't surprise or confuse him, he could feel the world shift and change around him, it made sense that magic now travelled at this speed.  He didn't know how but it did.  As it approached, he stepped aside and watched it fly slowly past.  He stared at it, taking notice of how it was beautiful and horrible at the same time, with countless strands of raw magic woven into a ball of pure pain.  When it had passed and he was out of danger he felt his mind relax, the world shifted again, the spell accelerated behind him and detonated against the wall.  The world faded back to normal, the sensation passed.  Draco had to fight for breath, he was very dizzy.

"So you've learned nothing since you came here eh?"  The smile remained on Etean's face.  Now that the moment had passed, Draco was confused again, what had actually happened?

"What?  You mean I did that?"

"Yes, the second time anyway.  The first time I did it.  I'm actually impressed Malfoy, most don't manage it on their first attempt."

"Manage what?  What did I do?"  Etean paused, thinking.

"This is going to be a little difficult to explain accurately without confusing you."  He paused again, and closed his eyes in thought.  "OK, think of it like this.  Magic as you understand it is an active force.  It is a weapon, a tool to be called on and directed to do what you want it to do.  That's what happens when you do a spell, yes?"

"Yes, of course, everyone knows that.  It's the first thing they teach us in school."

"Right well…that's not right.  Not completely anyway.  Magic _is_ a tool and it _can_ be used like that but that description doesn't define it completely.  I told you before about the elemental magic that forged the universe before it shattered and dispersed itself through time, remember?"

"Yes.  But you said you didn't believe that."

"No, that's not what I said, but it doesn't matter what I believe, the truth is magic is everywhere.  It exists in you because you're a wizard.  That is one kind of magic, the kind that you…that all wizards generate.  But there is another type of magic, a type that exists as a part of nature itself.  That magic is harder for us to see.  In fact we can't see it at all, but its there, and it's powerful, very powerful."

"How do you know that if you can't see it?"

"We know because it has to be there.  It is the only explanation that accounts for all that we have observed in the world.  We can see what it does, how it affects us.  You saw it a minute ago."

"I don't follow."  Etean paused to think again before he continued.

"OK, try it like this.  When you do a spell, you focus a part of your magic and release it.  When you do it interacts with the magic in the world around you.  It creates waves in the magic in the air, ripples of energy that spread out as your spell pushes through.  Do you follow me so far?"

"I think so, waves and ripples."

"Yes now, you are in the world, so am I so these ripples must affect us right?  We're like boats on the ocean, bobbing on the waves."

"That makes sense I guess."

"Right.  Now, you were born sensitive to magic, so was every wizard.  These ripples in the fabric of magic have affected you always.  All your life, from the time you were an infant and even now those ripples have hit you, you've being knocked and bounced around by them constantly."

"Wait, if they are affecting me now, tossing me about, how come I don't feel them?  How did I never notice?"

"Of course you didn't, but they were _always_ there.  That's the point you see. They were and still are a constant factor in your life.  Your body, your mind just got used to them and stopped noticing.  It was the only way your mind knew to cope with the chaos of the world.  It's like how a sailor stops being seasick anymore once he's gotten his sea legs."

"OK, I get that, so I've gotten used to them.  But I still don't follow about how I did what I just did."

"What you went through, what I put you through last night opened your mind and allowed it to change."  He gestured around him to the walls and the countless glyphs.  "These are not just for decoration, together they form complex and powerful spells that can alter the mind and force it to revert to an earlier configuration.  A similar configuration to the way it was just after you were born, before you had adjusted.  A configuration in which you are able to notice the ripples around you again.  But your mind has to be ready to let them do their work.  The pain that the eye caused broke down your defences so that the magic could rebuild your senses and it seems they were successful."

"That doesn't make sense, if what you say is true, why don't I feel them now?  I don't feel any different."

"But you did, you did feel different when I attacked you just now?"

"Well…I felt…"  Draco searched for a word to describe how he had felt but all he could come up with was, "strange!"

"Yes, it is a strange sensation the first time the mind opens.  But it happened."

"Yes but how did it happen?  How did I do it without realising it?"

"Instinct!  It always starts with instinct.  The instinct for self preservation is the most powerful force in the human mind.  Your subconscious mind sensed danger and reacted.  Before you might have attempted to duck or dodge though I doubt you would have been able to get out of the way.  This time, your mind in its new configuration found it had a new weapon at its disposal…time.  Magic can alter time, it can make it flash past or drag it out.  Your subconscious mind sensed that you needed more time for the rest of your reflexes to act to save you and so it gave you more time.  Your mind pushed out, created ripples of your own and caused the magic around you to slow the passing of time.  Once that was done, you stepped aside.  Then, when the threat had passed, your mind settled and time reverted to normal."

"My mind did all that?  How?  I don't remember doing it."

"Why would you?  Your mind does thousands of things every second that you aren't consciously aware of, they just happen because you need them to.  Your mind takes very good care of you in ways you wouldn't even imagine."  Etean turned and walked back to the pillar.  "Tell me, what did you feel?  Describe it as best you can."

"It was…weird.  I could see things, things that weren't there."

"What kind of things?"

"Well, you for a start."

"Me?  I was standing here the whole time."

"I know, but you looked…different.  You were…glowing."

"Really?  Why do you think that was?"

"I don't know.  You are the one who is supposed to have the answers here."

"True, I guess I am.  What you saw was me, but you saw more than me, you saw my abatile."

"Your what?"

"Abatile, it's a word from a language that is long dead.  A tongue that survives now only within The Circle.  Loosely translated it means my aura."

"And what is your aura?"

"Ha!  There are millions of muggles in the world who would kill to know the answer to that question.  But whatever they think it means, what I mean by it is that you saw my impression, the effect that I have on the magical world.  Every wizard makes an impression, some larger, some smaller.  You saw mine."

"And you could see mine?"

"Yes, I can see it even now, I have seen it since we first met."

"You can see it now?  You can see it all the time?  How?"

"Patience, we'll get to that.  You still have a lot to learn, last night was only the beginning.  So…are you ready to start again?"  He touched the stone surface of the pillar and the eye appeared once more.  Draco paled at the sight of it.

"Will…will I be able to dodge that?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because if you could, it would serve no purpose.  You must learn to endure it.  It is through pain that your mind opens.  Only with your mind open can you be taught all that The Circle knows.  Only then will your senses grow and your abilities increase."

"Increase how?  I can already stop time, what else can these…these ripples allow me do?"

"First the ripples do not allow you do anything, they are merely the means through which you sense the magical forces around you, how you know it is there and what it's doing.  And second you cannot stop time, no one can do that, you merely slowed it down, temporarily.  Even so, you cannot yet do it consciously.  It is not a power you can use at will.  As such it is little use to you.  But to answer your question, there really is no limit to what you can do.  Once you conquer your fear, once you can fully, consciously feel and understand the world around you…"  Etean stepped into the centre of the room, the ring of glyphs returned.  He faced the eye and raised his hand.

"Avalarus!"  The energy bolt hit him, brighter than Draco remembered it, but Etean didn't cry out or scream, he didn't so much as wince.  He turned, still engulfed in the eye's power and faced Draco.  His eyes showed no pain, no fear, just calm confidence.  After a minute he lowered his hand.  The eye went out, the energy faded.

"Once you do that Draco, you will be able to do anything!" he stepped back, vacating the circle and motioned for Draco to step forward and take his place.

_A/N:  Just thought it was about time that I said hi.  This is my first fanfic, its just a story I thought up while reading HPAOTP, believe me we have a long way to go.  I hope you all like it._

_Thanks to my reviewers – it seems that there are a few of you out there who are as twisted as me.  Just kidding, thanks guys.  Keep reading and I'll keep writing._


	6. A Quiet Night

            Draco walked along the main hallway of the academy on autopilot paying no attention to anyone else.  At first he had been surprised at the sheer size of the place.  The door from the training room that had been barred when he first arrived opened onto this main hallway that seemed to be the only artery, connecting all the rooms and chambers of the academy.  It was endless, it seemed to continue on forever, carving it's twisting and turning path through the rock.  He had spent many a night when he had first arrived exploring but he could only scratch the surface, some of the doors and corridors were barred, he could not enter them, there was more to this place than he could see.  The hallway was always busy at this time.  People milling about, some were members, he could tell by the cloaks they all seemed to wear, others he assumed were initiates like him.  He half heartedly wondered if they were having as hard a time as he was.  By the look of them, they weren't.  Draco recognised some of them, he had seen them wandering around the halls before, but he knew none of their names.  Not that he felt like asking them, even if he was curious, he was too tired to care.  In fact he was completely exhausted.  He always was at the end of the day.  Come to think of it, he was pretty much exhausted all the time but he was even more so at the end of the day.  Exhausted and sore.  But he had to admit it, battling the eye was getting easier, he was getting more and more used to the pain.  It was by no means easy, just easier.  Over the past weeks he had gone from buckling after a few seconds to being able to withstand its torturous attack for a full five minutes before passing out.  Etean claimed he was making steady progress and indeed, he could now with a great effort focus his mind and for a few seconds he could see _'the other world_' as he had taken to calling it. 

It certainly seemed like a different world in many respects.  There were things he could see there that were impossible to describe or compare with anything from this world.  There were things that seemed normal and ordinary here but were completely different there.  According to Etean, that was as they really were, what they looked like normally was just a shadow of their true nature.  Exactly why that was Draco could not begin to imagine and asking Etean about it only served to confuse him more.  In the end, he had decided it didn't matter.  He was still learning, he would figure it out eventually.  It would take time that's all.  Time!  That was another problem.

Draco had really lost all track of time.  He had no definite means by which to keep it.  Day and night had no meaning here, there was no sun underground and his watch had stopped working the first time he had battled the eye.  He was reduced to counting the days as the interval between when he woke up and went to sleep, some were longer, some seemed shorter, he marked them on the wall of the tiny room he had been given to sleep in but he doubted if he was anywhere near accurate when, by his reckoning, it was July sixteenth – his mother's birthday.  Missing it didn't really bother him, she had always bought herself something nice and given it to herself from him, and he supposed not actually seeing him on her birthday would cause her little grief.  It was just one more thing to mark the passage of time.  If he was home now, he would probably be spending what little free time he had by the pool, his nights would be spent attending those horrible parties.  He would probably be counting the days till he went back to school.  He had always preferred his time in school to his time at home.  It wasn't that he liked it there; he was never what you could call an academically minded wizard.  But Hogwarts was different than home.  When he was there he was important, there he was his own boss.  Sure there were the rules to follow but it was freedom nonetheless.  It was certainly nothing like this.  Here, there were no classes to attend, no essays to write, no assignments to complete.  Well except for one, endure the pain.

The pain was still with him as he walked, these days it stayed with him even when he was nowhere near that blasted eye.  It stayed with him as he ate, it was with him when he practiced the endless meditations and rituals Etean had taught him to '_strengthen his mind and increase his conscious awareness of the world around him_'.  God, Etean's voice had started to remind him of his father's the way it echoed in his mind when he least expected it and that annoyed him.  Even after all this time he still didn't trust Etean, not completely.  He had lost the all out hatred he had initially felt after that first night.  He no longer wished to strangle Etean whenever he saw him.  Oh there were times when he wanted to, just not all the time.  Etean had been true to his word, everything he had done to Draco in the name of making him stronger was true, it was working.  In his heart Draco felt as if he were getting stronger, even if he was exhausted by the process.

He reached his tiny room and opened the door.  He didn't bother with lighting the candles.  He just went in, stripped off his shirt and landed with a thud on his tiny bed.  Exhausted as he was, he did not sleep, he couldn't.  The pain was too much.  His hand ran across the scorch marks on his chest and the pain doubled, it was getting worse.  He reached for his wand, he was going to light a candle and see how bad the burn on his chest was but he didn't get the chance.  A light, a candle flared in the shadows and someone walked towards him.  He tried to sit up, to say something to the newcomer but he found that he hadn't the energy to move.  The light got closer and he could see that his visitor was a girl but he couldn't see her face.  She moved closer, right up to the edge of his bed.  She carried a small silver bowl which she set on the.  Then she placed the candle on the shelf over his head.  She sat and looked down at him.  He knew her face, he knew her name but it couldn't be her, she couldn't be here.

"Granger?  What…" was all he managed before she shushed him.

"Don't start asking silly questions, I'm here to help you."

"Silly questions?  I mean it Granger what…"

"Don't call me that," she interrupted him, "…I'm here because you need me to be here Draco."  The sound of her saying his name mesmerised him.  It had never sounded like that before.  He had never thought his name could sound so…perfect.  He hadn't ever really thought much about it before, it was just his name.  It had never meant anything more than that.  Now it was something he would treasure, she had made it special, just by saying it.

"How did you get here?"

"Does it matter?"  She leaned down, her head passed out of his sight.  He heard the sound of water as she dampened a cloth in the bowl.  She brought it up and started to bathe his chest where the eye had burned him.  At first he winced in pain as she touched his inflamed skin, but the cool water started to feel good, the pain started to fade as she gently washed his chest.  "Is that better Draco?"  Again she had said his name, again the sound of it lifted him.  He couldn't even feel the pain anymore.

"Yes, it's wonderful."  He said dreamily, the relief of not feeling the pain was profound, he found himself starting to feel drowsy.  As she continued to tend his wound, a look of deep concern came to her face.

"You can't keep this up Draco, you're too weak."

"I'll be fine.  I'm just tired that's all.  It's not exactly easy to sleep when you're in agony you know."

"I know.  I'm here aren't I?  I know you're tired, that's not what I meant.  Etean is testing you and you can't pass his test, not this way."  Now Draco sat up, Hermione stood and backed away from him.  He looked at her, she couldn't know about Etean, about what he was doing here.  She just couldn't be here.

"What are you Granger?  Are you just a figment of my imagination or is this just another one of Etean's mind games?"  Hermione, real or not, looked really hurt.

"I said don't call me Granger, Malfoy.  It sounds nasty when you do, like an insult."  Just as the sound of her calling him Draco had filled him with joy, her calling him Malfoy hurt him almost as much as the eye did.  The pain in his chest came back, as bad as it had been before.  He groaned in pain and fell back onto the bed.  Hermione just stood there watching him.  He closed his eyes and groaned again, he didn't care if she was real or not, she could take the pain away and right now, that's all that mattered.

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again…Hermione."  The name nearly stuck in his throat, it occurred to him that he had never actually said it before.  To him she had always been Granger, or Mudblood.  It felt really strange to say her first name.  She came back and soothed his pain again.  It was a long time before either spoke.

"I am strong enough you know," he said quietly, he was half asleep, "to pass the tests.  At least I think I could be.  All I need is a decent nights rest."

"Well maybe without this to keep you awake, you might finally get one Malfoy."

"Maybe…" he opened his eyes and looked up at her, "will you stay with me?"

"Where else would I go Malfoy?"

"Thank you, but…can I ask you a favour?"

"You mean other than this?"  She laughed as she continued to soothe his wound, it was now visibly smaller, less inflamed.

"Yes, just a small thing."

"Go on then, ask."

"Will you…can you…call me Draco?"  She smiled down at him.

"Alright…Goodnight, Draco."  With the sound of her saying his name ringing in his ears, Draco slept.  The first real sleep he had had in weeks.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Percy Weasley hunched his shoulders as he marched down between the rows of shelves to his tiny desk.  He could hardly see it beneath the mound of parchment that lay piled on top of it.  He sat down and sighed loudly.  This was hardly what he had hoped for in terms of a career move.  A few months ago he had been on the up and up, he had a good job, he had prospects, he had ambition.  Now it was all gone, all that he had left was ambition.  He had lost the rest, his position, his prospects everything.  He didn't even have a girlfriend anymore, Penelope had left him.  But that was before the recent catastrophe, she and him had fallen out over the return of…of You Know Who months before that.  He had taken the ministries side – of course all this talk of…His return was pure nonsense, it had to be.  Penelope had chosen to believe what she had read in that silly Quibbler magazine.  They had argued, they had shouted, and then she had left. 

So now it appeared she was right…He…You Know Who…was back.  Percy hadn't believed it at first but it was true.  The whole ministry had been concerned with nothing else for the last two months.  Everything and everyone had changed, it was as if a tornado had hit.  People in every department were ordered to drop what they were doing and change over to new projects designed to prepare for the coming fight.  His father had even been promoted and transferred to head up the new muggle monitoring force designed to alert the ministry if You Know Who struck at the muggles.  Delores Umbridge, a woman he had grown to admire and respect had left in disgrace – a leave of absence, but she wouldn't be back.  His job gone, he had been re-assigned, he had wound up here, buried deep in the bowels of the Ministry building, Chief Caretaker of the Unknown and Possibly Harmful Artefacts division.

Percy had always been one for titles, they made him feel important, Prefect, Head Boy etc.  He had always coveted titles.  But even he couldn't bring himself to feel important about his new one.  Chief Caretaker indeed, he was nothing more than a trumped up librarian.  A few months ago, this department had consisted of a few tattered ledgers and a locked storage closet.  Its staff had consisted of Albert Blackthorn, a hundred and five year old wizard with a drinking problem who, it seems, had been merely running out the clock doing little or nothing, waiting for retirement.  He had let his responsibilities and duties slide for so long that he no longer remembered what they were. 

That kind of attitude to the job had been OK before, but not now.   Now, with the general mayhem and panic brought on by You Know Who, the inventory and workload of the department had multiplied a hundred fold.  Albert was gone, he had asked for and been granted early retirement, desperate to get out of the line of fire, and Percy had been drafted in to replace him.  The sudden boost in workload hadn't been matched by an increase in staff, it had however prompted the re-location of the department and his '_promotion_' to Chief Caretaker – the job hadn't even had a title before.  He forced himself to think of it as a promotion.  But he wasn't happy, this work just didn't seem to be as important as what the aurors were doing, chasing Death Eaters in the field or researching new defence spells.  He had requested a transfer several times but he had been refused each time.  The problem was no one knew where You Know Who was or what his plans were now that he had been exposed.  Suddenly everything and everyone was suspect.  If a witch or wizard came across something that seemed out of the ordinary – a fairly common occurrence in the wizarding world, it invariably wound up here, on his desk, and like it or not he had to deal with them.

            Most were harmless, the result of an ill advised practical joke or a bungled enchantment.  He had been disgusted to find the garish double W mark that his brothers, Fred and George used to label all of their merchandise on more that a few that had arrived labelled as 'DANGEROUS – POSSIBLY LETHAL'.  He was half convinced that someone in the mailing office was playing a long and not very funny joke on him.  Still a couple of the so called artefacts were genuine, some were truly bizarre!  Figuring them out was enough to keep him sane at least.  The ones he found out to be dangerous he destroyed or rendered safe.  The ones he couldn't figure out he had to index and catalogue correctly.  That was another headache.  Who ever had created the original index hadn't been thinking in terms of this scale of operations or this volume of new artefacts.  To make matters worse the venerable Albert, when he had bothered to update the index hadn't been too keen on being neat.  Percy had spent countless hours struggling to sort it out before he had given up and started again.  The task had seemed endless, what with the constant stream of new artefacts but he had done it.  Now the collection was properly organised and indexed.  He could find anything in the three dozen shelves at will.  He smiled; at least he could do this stupid job well.

            He reached over to the pile of new mail that sat beside his desk and took up an envelope.  He opened it and – carefully, emptied the contents out.  A small silver snuff box dropped out onto his desk.  He picked up his wand and waved it over and around the box, reciting spell after spell to gauge its reaction.  Nothing, it didn't move, not a flicker.  Satisfied it wouldn't explode in his face he donned a set of dragon hide gloves and picked it up.  He fumbled with the catch trying to open it.  It was a difficult thing to do with the gloves on.  He finally got it open and a cloud of dust shot out of it and encircled his head.  His nose started to itch violently as he breathed in the dust.

            "A…A….ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" he sneezed violently, knocking a pile of parchment on his desk over.  "A…ACHOOOOOOOOOO" Again and again, more violently each time he sneezed for ten full minutes, books, envelopes everything within five feet of him went flying.  Eventually he tipped himself over and lay sprawling on the floor unable to stop the continuous sneezing.  Finally he got himself under control.  He stood up, his eyes streaming with tears.  He took a moment to compose himself, fixed his robes and picked up the box again.  Holding his breath just to be on the safe side, he looked inside.  It was empty except for a tiny slip of parchment.  He unrolled it:

"_Bless you Bro...F G_"

            "I am going to kill those two."  He shouted flinging the box into the dark recesses of the room.  Why did his twin brothers take is as their personal obligation to make his life miserable.  It wasn't his fault that he wasn't on good terms with his parents.  It was…it had been a difference of opinion that's all.  He sighed, some difference of opinion, he had been acting like a prick and he knew it, now his entire family hated him.  He could see the disappointment in he father's eyes whenever they met in the halls.  He had even stopped _trying_ to talk to him in the last few weeks. 

He picked his chair up and surveyed the damage.  It was considerable.  Parchment and books had been flung all over the place.  He swore, promising himself that he would have a rather stern word with his meddlesome siblings, if they ever spoke to him again that is, and set to work cleaning up the mess.  He picked up all the pieces of parchment and placed them in a pile onto his desk.  Then he collected and re-stacked his meticulously written index volumes in the correct order.  He sat down and was about to start sorting all the parchment out when he noticed that he had missed a single, folded piece of parchment on the floor beneath his feet.  He bent down and picked it up, it was clearly a letter.  He unfolded it and read:

'_Dear Sir,_

_            I am writing to enlist your assistance in a matter of great personal importance.  I am currently seeking to locate a certain artefact that is of great historical value to my family.  The artefact in question – see the enclosed sketch – is of Babylonian origin.  It is a stone tablet which bears a rather poetic blessing the translation of which has sadly been lost forever.  It was a gift to one of my ancestors from the Emperor Charon himself almost eleven hundred years ago as a thank you for services rendered and intended to impart good fortunes on my entire family.  It remained a treasured possession of my family for centuries, right up to the time when my grandfather moved the family home to __Scotland__ at the turn of the century when, sadly, it was lost to us._

_            I have spent the last few years searching for this priceless piece of my family's history but to no avail.  I am writing to you in the hope that you or someone in your department has discovered it.  If so, I would greatly appreciate it if you could arrange for its return.  I am in a position to offer a substantial contribution to the Ministry in exchange for this irreplaceable token of my heritage._

_            I await your response.  Thank you in advance._

_                        Yours_

_                        Esmerelda Gilfoyle'_

            Percy had never seen the letter before, it had been delivered to his predecessor over a year ago.  He had apparently read it and discarded it.  A small note scribbled across the top read:

'_Crazy old bat, I have more important things to do with my time_'

            "More important things to do?  Like what?"  Percy asked the empty air.  Had the laziness of the man known no bounds?  That poor woman was clearly desperate to find this thing, this tablet and he hadn't even bothered looking for it?  It was unbelievable that anyone could be that incompetent and get away with it.  Still, that was then and this was now.  If he was anything, he was definitely not incompetent.  He turned to the second page of the letter and looked at the sketch.  He knew how to find the thing if it was here.  He reached out to select the appropriate volume from his index.  His hand hovered over the row of books.  "Now, let me see…Would I have labelled it under tablet, or…maybe Babylonian."  With little more than a moment's hesitation he picked up one of the them and started to flick through it to the appropriate page…"Ah, here we are, yes this must be it, we've had it for decades…huh, there's no record of it belonging to Charon…interesting."

            He stood up and headed down to one of the shelves, after a few moments rummaging through the pile of boxes he found it.   He took it back to the desk and examined it.  He compared it to the sketch.  Yes, that's the one alright.  God it wouldn't have been that tough for old Albert to dig up, even if he was a lazy old fool.  He set it down on the desk again and dug out a clean piece of parchment.  He took up his quill, loaded it with ink to compose his response.

            '_Dear Mdme Gilfoyle,_

_            I am please to inform you that I have located the item you were inquiring about in your letter to the department.  I feel I must apologise for the tardy nature of the response but I have only recently transferred to the department.  My predecessor…_'

            He paused, Albert had been an incompetent drunk but it wouldn't be right to openly criticise a fellow Ministry employee, the Ministry should appear to be a unified team, especially in the current environment of mistrust…

            '_… was an extremely busy man, the truth is he let his workload pile up beyond his ability to cope with it.  I am sure you can understand._

_            As for your question concerning the return of the item, I am sorry to inform you that it is beyond my authority to release any of the items in the Department's possession without the explicit consent of my supervisors.  In order to secure the stated permission, you must complete and supply us with the appropriate documentation for our approval.  I enclose the required documents for you to complete (see enclosed).  Please note that you must secure the correct signatures on all of the enclosed forms before your claim can be completed._

_            I hope that you are able to complete the enclosed documents, feel free to contact me if you have any difficulties._

_            Yours_

_                        Percy Weasley_

_                        Chief Caretaker_

_                                    Dept of Unknown and Possible Harmful Artefacts.'_

Percy scanned the letter again, yes that should just about cover it.  He made a note on a separate piece of parchment to remind him of the various forms he would need to include before he sent it, then he updated his index with the necessary details about the tablet before returning it to its place on the shelf.  He picked up his cloak and extinguished the candles in the room before heading home.  Yes, it was a stupid job, but at least he could do it well.


	7. The Inner Circle

Draco woke, feeling more refreshed than he had since he arrived at The Circle academy. He got up and crossed to the washstand. As he did, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. The burn on his chest was visibly smaller. The pain was almost gone. He didn't hurt nearly as much as he had before. Then he remembered. He spun around, he was alone in the room. Hermione was gone. There was nothing, no trace to signify that she had even been there. Nothing except for his memory, could he trust that? Could he have just imagined the whole thing?

He couldn't have imagined her, could he? She had been here. Then where was she? How did she get in? How did she find him? He sat back leaning on the washstand and shut his eyes. The more he thought about it, the less he believed that she had actually been there, there were just too many barriers in the way. Most importantly, the realist in him told him that even if, by some miracle she could have gotten in, past Etean, past The Circle's defences, even if she had figured out how to get in, why would she? Risk her life to save him? The real Hermione Granger would never have gone to those lengths to help him, she despised him. In fact it was usually a stretch for her to even speak to him. It had all been in his head, he had just imagined her that was all. He sighed, as the realisation hit him suddenly he felt…lonely. So he was finally losing his mind was he? Hell he was surprised it hadn't happened before, this training, this torture that Etean was putting him through. No, that he was putting himself through was enough to drive anybody insane. But why her? Why had he imagined Granger of all people?

Shaking his head, he turned back to wash himself. As he splashed the cold water over his face, he thought about what she had said to him…what he had said to himself, about how he wasn't strong enough to pass the test this way. Where had that come from? What other way was there to pass the test? He had to endure the pain of the eye. As much as it hurt he had to endure it. He knew it could be done; Etean had done it right in front of him on that first day. Or had he?

'_Lesson number one, nothing here is as it seems._' Etean's voice on the misty hilltop all those weeks ago sounded once more in his head. What if Etean hadn't simply endured the pain, what if he had done something else that Draco had missed? Maybe there was some other way to beat it? What if that was what he had to figure out? What if _that_ was the real test he was supposed to pass? But if so, it that was the puzzle he needed to solve, what was the solution? No matter how much he tried, no matter how hard he thought about it, he just couldn't figure it out.

The thought stayed with him as he dressed and left his room, he walked down the endless corridor towards the training room and the eye. He hesitated outside the door, he still couldn't shake the thought that he was on to something, it was there, he could feel it right in front of him but he just couldn't grasp hold of it. Shaking his head, he opened the door and went in. Once inside he was alone, Etean was nowhere to be seen. That didn't surprise him all that much. He arrived late sometimes, some days he didn't show up at all. Draco knew what he had to do, Etean it seemed, trusted him to do it. Inside the room everything was ready as it always was, the ring of glyphs on the floor was glowing, the eye was burning on the pillar, waiting for him.

He stepped forward, into the circle and raised his wand. He took a breath to cast the incantation…and paused. He lowered his wand and stepped out of the circle. He closed his eyes and stood there, taking long, slow breaths for a few minutes. Without thinking he raised his hand and touched his chest, sending a stab of pain through his whole body. His eyes snapped open. He looked down and took his hand away. For a minute he just looked at it, it was shaking. '_It's my hand, I know what it is, and I know what it has done and what it can do._' Again he heard Etean. So…this was his hand and he knew it. Well it was shaking now, what did that mean? It meant he was afraid, afraid of stepping up to the eye again. He shouldn't be afraid of it anymore should he? He knew what to expect, it was the same every time. Maybe that was the problem, he knew what was coming and that scared him. Even after all this time and effort he was still afraid. This was silly, was he that weak?

Gritting his teeth, he turned back to the ring, back to face the eye again. In mid turn, the pattern of glyphs on the wall caught his eye; they still appeared to be in motion. They seemed almost as if they were alive. '_Together they form complex and powerful spells that alter your mind and allow it to change…they can only do it when your defences are down._' Was that it? Was that all he had to do? Etean had said that the pain was supposed to break down his defences and allow the magic to work. His progress had been slow thus far because he hadn't been able to hold on long enough. The pain had always been too much. But did that have to be the way it worked? What was the pain? How exactly did pain work? '_Instinct!__ It all starts with instinct. Your mind takes better care of you than you know, in ways you can't even imagine._' Was the pain all in his mind? Was it just another way that his mind looked after him? Wait, that didn't make any sense, how could pain be good for him?

He paused again, and tried to slow his mind, to stop his thoughts from racing away from him. He took a deep breath and started again. It occurred to him that there were times when pain was useful. If you accidentally put your hand on a hot surface, the pain was what told you to take it away. You didn't think about it, it hurt and you took your hand away – instinct. Was that what this was? Was it that simple? The eye, whatever it was doing to him, his mind thought it was bad for him – instinct took over and it hurt – it hurt and he passed out and the eye couldn't finish what it started. If that was it then what could he do about it? '_Control your fear, control your mind and you can do anything._' Etean's voice from one of his countless lectures sounded in his head like a siren. He knew what he had to do.

Gritting his teeth Draco stepped into the ring, raised his wand and bellowed the spell. The eye flashed and the pain came. Draco fought hard to keep control – 'It doesn't hurt, this is what is supposed to happen. I _want_ this to happen. _I want this to happen._' Again and again he repeated it inside his head, his teeth ground together as he fought the pain. 'I WANT THIS TO HAPPEN!!!'

And then the pain stopped, relief shot through him and he straightened up. He opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by the light. The eye hadn't stopped, he was still surrounded by its energy, but now it didn't hurt. He squinted in the bright light and looked around, the energy had completely surrounded him. Golden light was pouring out of the walls, bathing him in its radiance. He felt lighter as the energy from the eye coiled around his arms, his legs, and his whole body. It was a strange, almost beautiful sensation as it gently lifted him into the air. Then the noise came, the same angry buzz that he had heard before, each time he had fought the eye it had come, gradually rising inside his head. Now it grew louder and louder, rapidly rising in volume until he was no longer aware of anything else but the sound. He grew dizzy, nausea filled him and he screamed, holding his head. The noise continued, it roared and surged in a slow, constant rhythm. And then it was gone, he was lying on the ground again.

The sound faded, but the rhythm continued. Draco opened his eyes. The light from the eye was gone. He could still see the other world glow that seemed to pour from the walls. Draco felt his senses extend as they had before and he touched the world around him again. But this feeling of contact was stronger than before, this felt natural, he didn't have to strain to maintain it anymore. Still the slow rhythm continued, Draco recognised it now, the slow beat of someone applauding. He looked around for the source as Etean moved in from the edge of the room, applauding. Draco watched as the waves of white light poured off him, mingling into the light in the room. Draco looked down at his own hands, he could see the same light pour off his fingers. He watched it as it distorted the world, ripples of energy spread out from him as he closed his fingers into a fist.

He looked up again, the world around him dazzled him. Before, he had always been too busy straining to maintain his view of it to really see it. Now, with the effort gone, he was amazed at just how beautiful it was. He opened his mouth to say something as Etean moved over and knelt beside him, but no words came out, he couldn't speak. Etean reached out and laid a hand on his forehead, the other world faded, the normal, dull world returned. He looked up to see Etean smiling at him.

"Well done, it seems you may just be up for this after all." Etean's face faded as Draco closed his eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

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He awoke to find himself still in the training room, still lying on the floor. He heard movement around him and sat up. He looked around, expecting to see Etean preparing some new test, something new to torture him with but he was wrong. Instead of Etean, there were two hooded figures, members of The Circle. They were walking around the room paying no attention to Draco. They were gesturing and waving their hands over the surface of the walls. As they did so, the pattern of glyphs on the stone faded, disappearing from view. Large portions of the wall were already blank; the eye was nowhere to be seen.

"What are you doing?" Draco said, standing up. At the sound of his voice the figures stopped. Then after a moment's hesitation, one of them turned to face him, lowering his hood. He was tall, towering above Draco. His eyes were like Etean's, cold and icy blue.

"Ah so, you are awake at last. You have been out for hours." His tone was flat and cold, he looked Draco up and down before gesturing to his companion. The other figure turned without a word and continued clearing the walls. "Lord Etean told us not to disturb you and so we left you as you were."

"Etean…where is he?"

"_Lord_ Etean is busy, he was summoned to the council chamber on a matter of some urgency."

"What's going on?"

"That is not for me to ask, or you to know unless the Lords deem it so. You should know better than to ask such things." Something in his tone made him seem dangerous. Draco felt like he was in trouble.

"Sorry, what…I mean…am I allowed to ask what you are doing?" The figure scowled.

"An irrelevant question, considering that you have already asked. In any case it should be obvious. We are clearing the walls, the spells are no longer needed, your training here is done."

"Done? As in finished? That's it? I passed the test?"

"That is not for me to say. I have orders to clear the room, beyond that I know nothing about your training. You should await Lord Etean's word on that matter."

"Ok, when…when will he be back?"

"You never tire of asking questions do you? Why is it that they all ask so many questions?"

"If I don't ask, how will I learn?"

"Have you ever considered patience? You should wait for those who are better than you are to impart what wisdom and knowledge they will, you should not seek to pester them with pointless questions. Now if you don't mind, you are preventing me from completing my task." He pointed at Draco's feet. Draco looked down, the floor beneath him still bore the glyphs and symbols.

"Oh erm, sorry." He moved aside. "Did…did Et…Did Lord Etean say that I was to stay here?"

"No, just that we were not to disturb you as you slept."

"Right, well I'll be going then." He turned and left, glad to be away from the stranger, he seemed to be a most unpleasant character. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. For once it appeared to be deserted. 'So where to now then?' He thought to himself, 'Back to my room?' That was normally the only place he would go, but not now, for once he was free of the pain and exhaustion that had dogged him since his arrival. He decided that he might as well head off and explore this place some more, maybe now he would find something interesting. He exhaled slowly and tried to focus his mind. It came back, he was surprised how easy it was, the other world appeared around him. The corridor seemed to flex and twist and move as he looked at it, like he was inside a snake, watching it wriggle. He walked forward, examining every inch of the corridor as he went, looking for…well he wasn't sure what he was looking for he was just looking for a clue, something, anything that would let him figure this place out. Then he found it, one of the doors was wrong. As it looked to him before, it was just a normal door, the same as any of the hundreds of doors in the corridor. Now it was different. It didn't look like a door at all, more like a hole in the wall. He looked at it and his gaze seemed to fall into it. As he watched, he noticed a current in the energy around him, the whole corridor seemed to be being pulled slowly into the door and disappearing. He stepped toward the door and reached out to touch it. His hand passed through where the surface of the wood should have been. Suddenly he fell forward, it was as if someone had seized him by the wrist and pulled him in. He was powerless to stop himself from being sucked into the void. He shut his eyes and screamed as he fell.

In an instant it was over, his feet touched down on something solid and he felt himself come to a gentle stop. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in another corridor, almost identical to the one he had just left. His fright had caused his mind to revert to normal, he saw the more mundane, normal world and for the moment, that was just fine by him. He looked around puzzled, now where was he? Lacking any real way to answer the question, he shrugged and headed down the corridor.

He hadn't gone far when he noticed that this corridor was in fact different to the other one. After a while it grew wider, the doors on either side were replaced by arches. Most of them were dark, empty voids into which no light could penetrate. Draco didn't dare take the risk of stepping into or even touching any of them, who knew where he would end up? Here and there some were less menacing, though no less curious. Some opened out onto packed muggle streets, streams of people passed by just on the other side of the arch, none looked into it, did they even see it? Other arches looked out onto what appeared to be grassy plains or mountain caves. Draco looked at each of them in turn, growing more baffled at each one, but he didn't dare step into any of them. He continued in awe down the corridor until he came to a larger room. The corridor opened out into a large foyer, the ceiling rose up almost out of sight above him. The walls were covered in engravings. Draco had to move closer to see that they were names, carved in delicate, tiny letters into the stone. He read the names but recognised none of them. The entire rear wall of the foyer was dominated by a huge set of double doors. They were massive, over thirty feet tall, made of some dark, heavy wood. Draco doubted if he could have opened them by himself though something about them told him that he had best not try. On the surface of the doors were a series of large, golden glyphs, Draco counted twelve in total but he only recognised one. At the top of the right hand door he saw the stylised eagle's head, the crest that he assumed referred to Lord Etean. Its single eye glared down at him with an almost hypnotic presence. He was still staring at it when he heard a noise behind him, out in the corridor. He turned and headed back out to see what it was.

The third archway on the right hand side of the corridor was flashing, bursts of white light shattering the darkness within. As Draco watched the flashing grew faster and faster until the darkness in the arch was gone completely, replaced by a sinister looking stone passageway. Draco moved to get a better look at it when a high pitched shriek rooted him to the spot. He heard movement; something was coming down that passageway. He turned to ran back to the foyer but he hadn't taken a single step when a second, louder shriek filled the corridor. Shaking like a leaf, he turned and looked behind him.

He saw something that was maybe the ugliest creature he had ever seen in his life. It was small, about the size of a chimpanzee, and in a way it looked like one, with its long thin limbs, only it lacked the hair. Where the monkey had fur, this thing's skin was black and leathery. It stood on all fours just outside the archway, looking at him. Its face was small and cruel, its eyes shone like two points of pure hatred. Just looking at the thing terrified Draco beyond words. He wanted to run but he couldn't bring himself to move, he was too afraid. It shrieked again, different this time, it was almost like laughter mixed with the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Draco still couldn't move, he was still frozen to the spot as it straightened up on its rear legs and spread its arms to reveal large, leathery wings like those of a bat. Shrieking again it leapt into the air and flew at him. Now Draco moved, he turned and ran back into the foyer. He ran as hard as he could into the room before he realised that now he had nowhere to go, his mind hesitated, the moments distraction caused him to trip and fall to the ground. It was lucky that he did, the thing, whatever it was grabbed at his head and missed by inches with its short, sharp claws. Draco rolled over and looked up as it continued its flight, looped over in the air and dropped on top of him before he could move again.

Draco was again paralysed by fear, the thing had almost no weight, he could barely feel it as it stood on his stomach. It lowered its head and looked at him for a moment before it opened its mouth and shrieked again. The sound of it nearly deafened him, the things breath washed over his face, it was so hot that it felt like fire. It opened its mouth, Draco could see its teeth. They were like fangs, long and they looked very sharp. It reached out with one of its forelimbs and twisted his head to the side. He tried to resist, to push it off but he couldn't, it was surprisingly strong. It lowered its head, its teeth to bite him. Draco braced himself for the pain of the bite on his neck but it never came. Instead there was a bright blue flash, the thing shrieked again and he was free.

He sat up and looked around to see where it had gone. He saw a girl standing in the entrance to the foyer. He had never seen her before but she was clearly a member of The Circle, her long black cloak told him that. She was beautiful in a kind of serious way; her face was what could be best described as statuesque, as if it had been designed to be imitated in art. She wore her dark hair tied back behind her head. Draco stared at her, but she wasn't looking at him, her eyes were focused above him, her hand, holding a wand was outstretched as the thing that had attacked Draco flew at her, shrieking as it went. There was a second blue flash from her wand and the thing howled in obvious agony. It fell backwards and rolled around on the floor. Draco jumped to his feet as it came towards him. The girl advanced, her wand trained on the creature as it squirmed. It sat up, howled again and took off, Draco ducked involuntarily as it flew past him to settle high up on the stone wall. The girl walked over to stand beside Draco, her wand and her attention still focused on the creature.

"Are you alright?" She asked him with barely a glance in his direction.

"Yeah, I think so…What is that thing?"

"That is a harpy! Nasty little bastards!" The creature continued to cower against the wall. The girl lowered her wand, apparently satisfied that it wasn't going to attack. Draco wasn't so sure, he stepped back, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the thing as he could.

"No argument here. It's vile." He grimaced as he looked at it. The girl smirked.

"There's no need to be afraid anymore, it won't attack now that it knows we can hurt it. They are wimps when it comes down to it. You're welcome by the way."

"What?"

"I did just save you from a very nasty fate you know. It's not pretty what a Harpy bite can do to you, believe me."

"Oh right sorry. Thank you."

"That's more like it. So, you a newbie then yeah?"

"Newbie?"

"Yes newbie, as in a new member?"

"Well I'm not sure, I guess so. I don't really know to be honest."

"Ah, that explains it so."

"Explains what exactly?"

"It explains why you're here dressed like that?" Draco growled, what was it with witches and their fixation with how he was dressed?

"Dressed like what? Who the hell are you anyway?" A look of surprise spread across the girls face, she opened her mouth to respond when a loud boom cut her off. She spun round to face the door and raised her hood, covering her head.

Another boom sounded in the air, the girl bowed her head as the huge double doors swung slowly open. Through them, the room beyond was briefly visible as it sank into darkness. Draco could see people inside, dark figures in black. As the last of the light vanished, one of the figures emerged from the gloom. He was tall and almost skeletally thin, dressed in the long black cloak of The Circle but, unlike the others Draco had seen, this man chose to wear his open, revealing the robes he wore underneath. He was wearing fine silken robes of the deepest black, they reminded him of the ones his father usually wore. For a moment the man just stood there and stared at him, his eyes were the opposite of Etean's, they seemed to be made of pure raging fire, they burned a hole through Draco where he stood.

"What have we here?" The voice hurt for Draco to even hear, he winced at the very sound of it. The man advanced on him and he felt his legs begin to shake. He lowered his head and stared at his feet, desperate to avoid the stranger's glare. The figure stopped right in front of him and grabbed him under his chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. "So you are the one Etean has brought to us?" He shook his head in disgust. "How could you be the one? I cannot fathom it, you are pathetic boy." His stare burned deeper into him, Draco wanted to look away but he couldn't. He felt as if he were naked, bathed in the flames within those eyes and he couldn't get out.

"Is there a problem here?" A new voice sounded in the room, a calmer, softer voice. Draco was free, the stranger had released him both from his grip and his glare. He reeled at his sudden dizziness. He would have fallen over but for the girl, the one who had saved him earlier seizing his arm and holding him up. He looked up as the source of the new voice, an elderly man with short silver hair, also dressed in black strode forward. The first man turned to face him and bowed slightly.

"Lord Poliakov, no there is no problem. I was merely getting acquainted with our newest addition." He gestured to Draco. The old man turned his attention to Draco for a moment, looking at him, Draco felt instantly better, safer somehow. Poliakov turned back to the other.

"I would think Lord Menai that given the current circumstances, with the situation as it is that none of us would have time for idle pursuits."

"I do not feel that getting to know those who are fortunate enough to join us is in any way an idle pursuit, my lord."

"No, of course it isn't, I was merely trying to point out that you…that we all have many things that are of a great deal more importance to attend to." Poliakov looked up at the creature on the wall, "Indeed, it seems that there is a matter of some importance before you even now Lord Menai." Menai looked up at the harpy, he snapped his fingers and the thing leapt from the wall to land beside him. It reached up and handed him a small silver cylinder. Menai looked at it briefly before returning his gaze to Poliakov, he bowed again.

"Of course, my lord. It appears you are right as always, this is a most urgent matter that I must attend to immediately. Good day." He nodded once at Poliakov and turned to leave. The harpy scurried out behind him. Poliakov turned to look at Draco once more. His eyes were deep blue, they radiated peace.

"Now then, you are Draco Malfoy are you not?" Draco took a second to answer, the old man just stared at him.

"Yes…yes I am…em my lord." He had little doubt that that was the correct way to address this man.

"Yes of course you are my boy. Well then, let me look at you." He stepped back and looked Draco up and down before smiling. "Yes, I can see why we chose you, you have great potential." Draco felt really good, the compliment seemed to mean a lot more to him than it should.

"Thank You."

"For what? It I merely spoke the truth. But this will never do." He tugged on Draco's shirt. "If you are to be one of us, you must dress like one of us. It's only proper after all."

"One of you? You mean I'm a member. A member of The Circle?"

"What a silly question boy, of course you are a member. You're here aren't you? But come now, we must see to your attire. Vashelle will see to your needs." He reached out and clasped the girl by the shoulder. He turned to face her as she lowered her hood.

"Of course my lord." Her voice was more solemn than it had been, clearly she respected this man.

"Splendid then, I am afraid I must leave you now, I was serious when I spoke of having much to do." He gestured to them, pointing to the corridor, a clear sign that they were to leave. Vashelle turned to leave without a word, Draco paused.

"Thank You erm Goodbye my lord."

"Goodbye Draco Malfoy." He smiled again. Draco turned and hurried off after Vashelle without so much as a backward glance. If he had looked back, he might have seen the old man's smile fade as he watched Draco leave. After he was out of sight, Poliakov sighed. He turned and headed off through the huge doors into the council chamber. He wasn't surprised to find it deserted. The other councillors would have left by the other doors. The room remained dark as he walked through, he needed no illumination to find his way. He found Etean exactly where he had expected him to be, standing over the communication pool at the edge of the chamber. As he approached he heard the end of the conversation Etean was engaged in.

"How long until you can be in position?" Etean asked the water.

"Not long my lord, it shall be done before nightfall." Came the distorted response from the pool.

"See that it is, we cannot afford to be caught unprepared again."

"We shall not, all will be ready." The voice faded away. Poliakov stepped up beside Etean just in time to see the shadow of a hooded face vanish from the surface of the pool. Etean stood there, staring at the water in silence. Poliakov could sense the uncertainty in his mind.

"You are still not convinced that this will work?"

"Are you?"

"No, even the wisest of us cannot be certain of the future. But I sense you are more troubled than the others." Etean turned to face the old man.

"Shouldn't I be? If it were not for me, we would not be in this situation. I could have rendered this situation void of danger with a word but I didn't." Poliakov extended his arm and placed a hand on Etean's shoulder.

"Do not think that Boy. This is _not_ your fault. We chose this course because it was your father's wish, not yours."

"Yes, but I could have changed it. I am Lord Etean now. I have the authority to overrule his wishes."

"True, but you have not for the same reasons I have not. You have remained true to your father's order because of your respect, your love for him. That is only right." Etean turned and walked away, deeper into the gloom of the chamber.

"Don't patronise me Old Man. I know why I did it. That doesn't prevent me from regretting it though."

"No, and it should not. But there comes a time Boy when you must stop analysing and planning and take action. This is that time. Your father saw it, and so should you."

"But if we fail…"

"We won't fail. In a thousand years we have never failed. This is not our first challenge. Tyrants and wars have come and gone but we remain. Voldemort will fall. We need only hold to our objectives as we have defined them and he will fall."

"Stick to the objectives…Right. You saw Draco, the boy?"

"Yes, he had a little run in with Lord Menai." Etean spun round.

"Menai? What did that fool want with Draco?"

"Easy Boy, he was just checking him out. He was understandably curious about the boy, I don't blame him."

"I don't trust him."

"You think I do? But we need him."

"_I_ don't need _him_ for anything."

"Is that so? Imagine us in our position without him. Not a good place to be is it?"

"No, I don't suppose it is. That doesn't mean I have to like him." Poliakov moved closer to Etean.

"Of course it doesn't, but you must learn your limits. Consider the alternatives before you leap in. For all your strength you cannot survive alone." He took Etean by the shoulder again and together they turned to leave. "You still have much to do. The boy is not ready."

"I know, if only there were more time."

"You may wish for time all you want, but the plain fact is that we have none. We have underestimated our enemy and now we must deal with the consequences." They reached the doorway and stepped out into the foyer, the heavy doors started to swing closed as they left.

"I know, it's a shame really. I was starting to like the boy."

"His fate is not certain. He may yet survive."

"Maybe."

_A/N: Hey, it seems I succeeded in confusing the hell out of some of you…In the quiet words of Mr. Burns…excellent. Maybe now you're not as confused as you were._

_Thanks to the reviewers, this story is working out to be longer than I had planned but stick with me, we'll get there._

_PS Someone asked when H and D will get together – your just going to have to wait and see! Maybe that will happen, maybe it won't._


	8. Dracos new cloak

            Vashelle walked fast, by the time Draco reached the start of the arched corridor, she was halfway down it and showed no signs of stopping.

            "Hey…Vashelle…wait for me."  Draco called as he ran after her.  She didn't stop or show any signs of slowing so he called again and sped up.  He had just about caught her when she rounded on him, her wand raised under his chin.

            "First thing, I don't wait for anyone.  You keep up or get left behind.  Second, my name is Vash…just Vash.  Got it?"

            "But, Poliakov called you…"

            "_Lord_ Poliakov can call me whatever he likes.  You cannot, understand?"

            "Fine yeah, I get it.  Sorry."

            "Right then," she lowered her wand and continued down the corridor with Draco in tow.  "I hate when people call me Vashelle…it makes me sound like some sort of prissy lady."

            "But that is your name though yeah?"

            "Only to my parents.  No one I can slap has ever called me it twice."  Draco paused.

            "Your parents, you mean…"

            "No you idiot, Lord Poliakov is not my father."

            "But then…"  Vash stopped in her tracks.

            "Are you really that stupid Draco Malfoy?  Lord Poliakov is on the council, he has been for longer than any of the others.  You really think I'm going to correct _him_?"

            "No, I guess not."

            "Of course I'm not.  I wouldn't be stupid enough to correct any of them.  And believe me, you don't want to either."

            "No, I don't think I do.  Especially not that…what was his name?  The other one?"

            "You mean Lord Menai?  No, take it from me you do _not_ want to make him mad at you."  She shivered.  "He is not one to take an insult lightly."

            "I don't doubt it.  That thing, that harpy, he acted like it was his pet or something."

            "It is, one of them anyway.  He raises them."  Now it was Draco's turn to shiver, he couldn't imagine anyone willingly keeping one of them, let alone a nest.

            "Raises them?  Exactly how many of them are we talking about?"

            "Not sure exactly, a lot.  They breed pretty rapidly, or so I'm told."

            "Why would anyone choose to keep those things around?"

            "It's his job.  His brief on the council is to oversee all affairs relating to magical creatures.  As to why he keeps harpies specifically…He seems to like them, they match his personality."

            "Yes but…aren't they dangerous.  I mean, I still don't know what I did to make it attack me before."

            "You didn't _do_ anything, that's just they way they are.  Unless they know you can beat them, they attack."  They reached the end of the arches and continued into the corridor, Vash started examining all the doors, like she was looking for something, some small thing on them.

            "Oh, right.  Erm, how _do_ you beat them?  Just in case I happen to meet another one someday."  Vash continued to be preoccupied with the doors.

            "Cold," she said over her shoulder, "Harpies, hate the cold.  You felt its breath right, how hot it is?  Well there some internal fire or something that keeps them alive, you put the fire out and poof, no more harpy."

            "I'd better remember that."

            "Wouldn't be a bad idea.  Finally, I wish they wouldn't keep moving this place."  She reached out and opened one of the doors."

            "What place?" asked Draco as he stepped through after her.  The room they entered answered the question for him.  It looked like a tailor's storeroom.  Rolls and rolls of jet black cloth filled the shelves that started at the floor and ran all the way to the ceiling.  Vash turned and looked at Draco with a calculating expression.

            "Now then, what size will you need?"

            "Size?"

            "Yes, for your cloak.  Every member gets a cloak."

            "Oh that well I'm…"

            "Shush, it's OK.  Wait here."  And she was gone, vanishing between the stacks.  He heard a lot of rustling and tearing followed by a loud crash and a tirade of swearing.

            "Are you alright?"

            "Bugger it, yes I'm fine.  One minute."  There was a series of flashes from somewhere amongst the shelves and she reappeared, carrying a bundle of black cloth in her arms.  "Now, here we are.  Bloody stuff doesn't like being cut."  She unrolled the cloth.  He could see it was a cloak, identical to the one she wore.  She draped it around Draco's shoulders, it was a snug fit around the neck, the hood hung down over his back and tugged at his throat.  Other than that it was a pretty good fit, it hung down to the ground but never seemed to actually touch it.  Draco was surprised at how light it felt, he had thought that everyone in The Circle was being baked alive under their perpetual cloaks but it was as if he wasn't even wearing it.

            "So…now I'm dressed for the occasion huh?"

            "Yeah, now you look like you belong here.  But this isn't just good fashion you know?"  
            "How so?"

            "I'll show you," she looked at the shelves, they were quivering, "But not in here, they aren't happy."  She headed out of the room, Draco followed her.  As the door closed behind him, he felt a strange urge to go back in, to climb up onto one of the shelves.  Vash tugged on his sleeve.  "Come on, snap out of it.  It'll get over the loss."  Slowly, painfully Draco followed her down the corridor.

            "What will get over the loss?"  He kept looking behind him, fighting the urge to run back to the room.

            "The cloak silly. It doesn't want to leave its friends."

            "It's friends?"

            "The rest of the cloaks, they like being together.  It's always kind of tough for them when one leaves."

            "What?  You mean this…its alive?"  He stared at the cloak, it didn't look alive.

            "No…well yes, I guess it is sort of."

            "How do you mean sort of?"

            "It's enchanted, they all are.  They kind of all have their own personalities.  They sort of remind me of puppies."

            "Puppies?"

            "Yes, puppies, they act the same as a big litter of puppies.  You just took one of them from the litter, and it wants to go back.  At first they hate being separated, but then they get over it, they grow to love you.  And they look after you."

            "How exactly?"

            "That's what I am about to show you."  She stopped and opened another door.  This room was familiar.  It was identical to the training room he had faced the eye in, except this one was darker, the crystal in the ceiling gave no light, the only illumination in the room was from torches attached to the pillars.  Vash walked to the centre and stopped.  "Watch." She commanded.  And she was gone!

            Draco was astonished, she had just vanished right in front of him.  One second she was there, the next she wasn't.  He walked over to where she had stood and waved his arms about, trying to see if she was really gone.  He could find no trace of her anywhere in the room.

            "Boo!"  Her voice sounded right in his ear scaring the wits out of him.  He jumped away from her and turned to see her bent double laughing hard.

            "Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?"  He snarled when he had recovered the power of speech.

            "No…it's just…do you know how funny you looked waving your arms like that."  She straightened and started waving her arms in an imitation of his earlier behaviour.  Draco was not amused.

            "Great, yeah.  Very funny.  Positively hilarious in fact.  Do you feel like telling me how the hell you did that?"  Vash took a minute to get herself under control before answering.  She tugged at her own cloak.

            "The cloak did it.  It's just one of the tricks it can do.  You try it."

            "How exactly do I try it?"

            "Well that's the tricky part.  You have to let the cloak know what you want it to do and it'll do it.  Here."  She took out her wand and waved it in the air.  A full length mirror appeared out of nowhere.  Draco could see himself reflected in it.  "Try it, just think real hard about not wanting to be seen, you want to hide.  Keep saying it to yourself over and over.  It should catch on soon enough and do the rest."

            Draco looked at his reflection in the mirror.  He thought about how he wanted to become invisible, he wanted to hide.  Over and over he said it inside his head but nothing happened, his image remained.

            "It doesn't work."

            "It will, you just have to make it listen that's all.  Try to sense it, to feel its presence."  Draco concentrated, extending his senses, the now familiar golden glow came back.  He could sense Vash, the room, the power all around him.  "No," Vash's voice cut through the sensation.  "You have to focus, you're not interested in sensing everything, you'll give yourself a headache that way, focus on the nearer, the cloak right next to you."  Draco allowed his eyes to close, he took a deep breath and drew his senses in.  He pulled back from the world, back from the room, back from Vash, to himself.  Then he felt it, the tiny presence surrounding him.  "There, that's it.  Hold on to it, concentrate on it, ignore everything else."  Draco pushed his mind to focus on the cloak's presence.  He could almost feel an emotion within it.  He focused more on it, trying to isolate it from the world around him.  Draco could feel it stir as he concentrated on it.  The emotion was still there, he could feel it – fear.

            "It's afraid!  It's afraid of me."

            "No, it's just afraid to be away from the others that's all.  It doesn't want to be away from them.  What are you going to do about it?"

            "I don't know.  What can I do?"

            "Get to know it, it's going to be your friend, your puppy, remember?"  Feeling slightly foolish Draco tried to think of his cloak as a living thing.  It certainly felt like it was alive, tiny but alive.  He reached out to try and touch the tiny presence.  It stirred again.  'It's OK.  You don't have to be afraid.  Everything will be alright.'  He repeated it over and over until finally, the fear faded.  The presence stirred again, it felt – happy.

            "I think it likes me."  He laughed.

            "I know, take a look."  Draco opened his eyes and yelped in surprise.  He could no longer see his reflection in the mirror.

            "I…I did it."

            "It did it.  You just convinced it that it should listen to you."

            "Yeah…that's what I meant."  Draco twirled on the spot, marvelling at how he had no reflection.  He looked at his hands, he could still see them.  They looked different, fainter but he could see their impression on the world around him.  He turned to face Vash again.

            "You can still see me right?"

            "Right, but you are invisible.  I see you the same way you see me, through your effect on the Ether."

            "The what?"

            "The Ether, the magic that surrounds us, what do you call it?"

            "Actually, I haven't been calling it anything.  I have mostly been thinking of it as 'the other world'."  He blushed as Vash laughed again.

            "Really?  Well I guess that's as good a name as any for it.  Are you not bored being invisible yet?"

            "What?  Well yeah I guess.  How do I turn it off?"

            "The same way you turned it on, ask the cloak."  Draco concentrated, he found the cloak's presence.  It was easier now he knew what to look for.  'Thanks, you can stop now.'  It felt weird thanking an item of clothing like that but it worked, he looked up to see his reflection reappear on the mirror.

            "I like this cloak.  What else does it do?"

            "It's hard to say, they are all different.  You'll just have to get to know it yourself.  Look after it though.  You look after it, and it will look after you."

            "Right, got it."  Vash nodded.

            "Are you hungry?"

            "What?"

            "Hungry?  As in do you want food?"  She made a gesture, the kind you do to a baby bringing an imaginary spoon to her mouth.  Draco scowled, causing her to break into another fit of laughter.  Thinking about it though, it had been ages since he had last eaten, he actually wasn't sure when that was.

            Not bothering to wait for his answer.  Vash shook her head and waved her wand in the air.  The mirror vanished, replaced by a table and two chairs.  She waved the wand again and the table filled with food, bread, soup and mounds of mashed potatoes, a generous lunch.  She sat down and helped herself to some bread.  Draco didn't waste time, he sat down and heaped potatoes onto his plate.  It was several minutes before his mouth was free enough to speak.

            "So, how long have you been a member of The Circle?"  Vash looked preoccupied, staring into space.  He had to repeat the question for her to hear him.

            "What?  Oh, about two years now."

            "And what do you do?  I mean, I know what Etean said The Circle does, but he was short on specifics."

            "Specifics?  Well I just gather information really.  My father is a politician, a member of the German Ministerial Cabinet.  I usually just keep an eye on him, read his papers when he's not there, generally snoop about.  What I learn, I report back.  That's it."

            "That's all?  In that case why did they recruit you?  Why not just make your father a member?"

            "That's not how the circle operates, we listen, spy and nudge.  We don't control.  If my father were directly involved, it would create an immediate conflict of interests for him and for The Circle.  That would lead to a lot more problems than it would solve believe me.  It's…simpler this way."

            "Etean controls directly, he's on the French Administrative Committee."

            "Well actually no, he isn't.  His father was and he _will_ be someday but he's still too young.  But even so Etean is the exception, not the rule.  The Etean family has, over the generations grown more and more powerful.  They have been able to swing the votes in France for centuries, just by nodding.  In the end, giving them a seat on the committee was the only way to moderate their influence.  This way, everyone has an equal vote.  Even if most still side with whatever the Etean's want most of the time."  Vash leaned back, tilting her chair onto two legs.  She was silent for a while, lost in thought again.

            "Do you mind if I ask you a question Draco?" she asked out of the blue.

            "No," was his response, through a mouthful of mash, "please."

            "How did you do it?"  Draco swallowed.

            "Do what?"

            "Master the eye?"

            "I'm not really sure.  I think I…I don't know."

            "You really are a bad liar Mr. Malfoy."  Draco sighed.

            "Promise you won't think I'm crazy?"  Vash let her chair fall back onto it's four legs with a thump.

            "Ohhh, this sounds _interesting_.  Go on then, tell."

            "Well…I had some help…someone helped me."

            "That doesn't sound crazy to me."  Draco shook his head.

            "No, you don't understand.  The one who helped me…well she wasn't real.  I saw her, felt her touch me, spoke to her, but she wasn't really here.  It was all in my head."

            "Now that sounds crazy.  Are you sure you weren't just dreaming?"

            "That's what I thought, it was all a dream.  But there are things I can't explain if it was just a dream."

"Like what?"

"Well there's my chest for one thing.  It was hurt, badly burned by the eye but it got better after she came and cleaned it.  It was smaller, almost gone in the morning.  She healed the wound for me…but she wasn't even here."

            "Ah, now I get it.  You're more complicated than you look Draco."

            "How do you mean."

            "Well let's see, you learned from Etean right?"

            "Yeah so?"

            "So he must have told you about how your mind works.  The way instinct takes over when it's needed?"

            "Yeah and?"

            "And, what do you think you've been doing all this time?"

            "What?"  Vash sighed and stood up.

            "Everything you've been doing has been designed to rebuild your instincts.  Your ability to consciously perceive the world around you has been built on these instincts.  You have learned to tap into them and direct them.  But you haven't tapped all of your instincts.  Some of them are still buried."

            "I don't follow you."  Vash walked over to him and grabbed his hand.  She pulled up his sleeve.

            "Look at your arm.  Really look at it."  Draco complied, allowing his senses to expand, he looked at his arm.  Vash reached out and picked up a knife from the table.  She brought it up and ran it along Draco's arm.  He screamed and tried to pull away as she cut him but she held him tight.  She finished and dropped the knife with a clatter onto the tabletop.  Draco stared at her, rage boiled up within him.

            "What the hell did you do that for?"

            "Don't be such a baby, keep looking at it."  She released him and he pulled away from her and stood up, cradling his arm.  "Look at it!" she repeated.  Draco looked down, he could see the wound as a gash of blinding light on his arm.  The ripples around it were in chaos, twirling and twisting about.  Then they settled down and started to form more simple patterns.  They started to flow inward towards the cut.  They disappear into it in a continual stream.  The cut got smaller and smaller as they did until it was completely gone.  Draco stared at his arm in disbelief, he rubbed his skin, there was no trace of the injury.

            "How did you do that?"

            "I didn't, you did."

            "What?"

            "Parts of your brain have accepted your training, the new view on how things really work a lot quicker than you have.  The part of you that normally deals with healing cuts and scrapes like that one is now aware that it can do its job a lot quicker if it uses the 'the other world' to help speed things up.  That's how the cut healed and that's what happened to the burn on your chest.  It just got better."

            "That's what happened to me?  That's why I saw Hermione?"

            "I don't know about that.  I'm not a qualified psychiatrist but if I had to guess, I'd say that you just dreamed about the girl.  Why?  Well only you know that?"  Her face lit up with a wicked grin.  "Maybe you just wanted her to be with you."  The tone of her voice left no doubt as to what she meant.  Draco scowled.

            "You don't know what you're talking about so just drop it."

            "Fine, have it your way.  Come on, we had better be going."

            "Where?"

            "Etean wants to see you."

            "How do you know that?"

            "One of these days Draco Malfoy, you might just figure something out for yourself.  Come on."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Frank Granger woke up.  The pain in his stomach had woken him…again.  He looked over at the clock, it was after four in the morning.  He rolled over to pick up the bottle of indigestion tablets from the locker and noticed that his glass of water was empty.  'Didn't I fill that last time?' he thought to himself.  But it didn't matter, he needed to get more water to take his tablet.  Groaning he got up.  Sarah rolled over beside him and mumbled something which he ignored.  She was still asleep so whatever she had said, it wasn't meant for him.  He pulled on his dressing gown and headed out of the room.

            As he walked down the corridor he paused.  He thought he had heard a noise from Hermione's room.  He listened.  Nothing.  Frowning he put his hand on the handle, he didn't like to invade her privacy, but he wanted to be sure she was alright.  He silently opened the door and looked in.  In the moonlight, he saw his daughter still fast asleep in her bed.  He shook his head and closed the door, not noticing as a shadow beside the bed moved slightly.  Frank continued down the stairs to the kitchen, pausing to swear as he remembered that he had yet to fix the loose step.  Behind him Hermione's bedroom door opened and closed without a sound.  Click!  He turned on the kitchen light.  There was the faintest creak from the loose step, but Frank was already at the sink, the noise from the water hid the sound.  He filled his glass and set it by the sink.  Then he opened the bottle of pills and tipped some into his palm.  He put the bottle down and took up the water.  He half turned round, swallowing the pills with a long draught of water.  He lowered the glass and noticed the small green bottle on the table.  His eyes fixed on it, that didn't belong there.

            SMASH!!!!!  The glass shattered on the floor, covering his feet with water and broken shards as the hooded figure appeared in the kitchen doorway.  He slowly reached up and lowered his hood.

            "Hello Frank."

_A/N:  HEHEHEHE  I love leaving you in suspense.  Maybe I wont add the next chapter for a week?_

_Just kiddin, itll be up soon I promise._


	9. The Circles Plan

            Draco noticed that the corridor was definitely busier as they retraced their steps from earlier.  It seemed that every door was in constant motion, members ducking in and out in an almost constant stream.  The corridor was absolutely jam packed with them.  Draco had to duck and weave to keep up with Vash as she resumed her earlier pace, seemingly unfettered by the crowd.  Eventually the crowd slackened slightly, enough to allow him to walk beside her.  A thought occurred to him.

            "Vash?" he said.

            "Yes?"

            "Can I ask you a question?"

            "Why not?"

            "How did you beat the eye?"  She hesitated before answering.

            "Oh…that.  Well I certainly didn't have quite as interesting a time of it as you did.  No hallucinations or seedy fantasies."  Seeing the scowl on his face, she smiled faintly.  "There's no story there really, I just tried and tried and tried again.  The damn thing nearly killed me before I figured it out."

            "So how did you beat it in the end?"

            "Magic!"  There was false laughter in her tone now.  She went quiet for a few moments before she spoke again.  "Look, not everyone has a big epiphany, a grand, interesting story to tell.  Some of us are just glad it's over."  The way she said that was a clear indication that she was ending the conversation.  They carried on without a word, returning to the arched corridor.  Here too the activity was frantic.  Any doubt about the role of the arches was dispelled for Draco as he watched members queue up and disappear into them.

            "Where are they all going?"

            "Different places, these arches connect to various points throughout Europe.  Some are static, they remain connected to the same locations all the time, and some are free to be re-located as we need them."

            "Ah…OK.  So what's the big hurry then, how come everyone is in such a mad rush all of a sudden?"  Vash moved over and joined one of the queues leading to one of the mobile arches.  Draco could see it flash and change to different views as different people stepped up to it.

            "Not entirely sure."  She seemed pensive.  "Nobody has told me of any emergency or anything.  Oh well, don't worry, if we need to know we'll be told."

            "Oh, I see.  Where is Etean?"

            "Waiting for us at the hilltop entrance."

            "Why are we going there this way?"

            "It's quicker this way.  Unless you want to take the stairs?"  Draco shook his head, there were a lot of stairs.

            "No, this is fine, I was just asking."  They were now next in the queue.  The member ahead of them vanished and the arch became a black void again.  Vash stepped up, placed her hand on the stone at the edge of the arch.

            "Sliabh Cahill."  The arch flashed twice then settled on the hilltop.  Vash gestured for Draco to step through.  He stepped up and walked into the arch.  The same falling sensation that he had felt earlier hit him for a moment, then he blinked in the sunshine.  It was the same hill he remembered from all those many weeks before.  There was no mist this time, Draco could see endless green fields in every direction stretching away from the foot of the small hill.  He turned around, it appeared that he had just stepped out of the door of the crumbling building.  In a moment Vash appeared, apparently stepping out of the surface of the door itself.

            "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."  Draco spun around to see Etean standing a few feet away on the grass.  He opened his mouth to answer but Vash beat him too it.

            "Sorry boss, the arches were busy, what's going on?  Where's everybody dashing off to?"

            "Don't worry about that now, you'd better get back.  Poliakov will fill you in."

            "I thought I was going with you."  Vash seemed surprised, almost disappointed.

            "Plans have changed Shel, now you're staying here."

            "But…"

            "No buts Shel, you stay!"  The force in Etean's tone made her jump, Draco too.

            "OK, I stay."  She lowered her eyes and shook her head slightly.  "Sorry boss."  Etean sighed.  He turned to Draco.

            "You ready to go?"

            "Yes, I'd like to know where I'm going though."  Etean waved the question off and whistled loudly, out of nowhere, the black carriage appeared and rolled to a halt a few feet from Draco.  He motioned for Draco to get in and turned back to Vash.

            "Good luck."  He turned and climbed into the carriage after Draco.  Draco just about heard her say:

            "You too."   Before they took off and were once again speeding through the sky.  Etean stared out of the window as they flew.

            "So, are you going to tell me what's going on now?"  Draco asked, trying to keep his tone light.  Etean didn't look at him.

            "What do you mean?"

            "I mean that despite what you may think, I am not an idiot.  Something big is going on."

            "What makes you say that?"

            "Two things.  First, everyone in there has suddenly gone berserk in the last half hour.  It strikes me as odd that such a rush of activity could have no cause and second, the way you acted with Vash."  Now Etean looked at him.

            "And how did I act with Vash?"

            "Come on, don't play dumb, you're really bad at it.  She obviously was as surprised as I was by the 'change of plans', and you really jumped at her.  But it was that change of plans that really convinced me that something hairy has definitely happened."

            "And why is that?"

            "Because, _Lord_ Etean, you are not one to change your plans at such short notice unless you have no choice.  That much about you I am certain."   Etean didn't move for several seconds, then he smiled and leaned forward.

            "Well done Malfoy.  Truly well done.  You're right about me, I hate changing my plans for any reason.  It's just messy."

            "So…are you going to tell me or not?"

            "Well if you're sure you want to know…look under your seat."  Draco reached down, in a moment his fingers brushed against a package.  He pulled it out, it was a brown leather folder.  He undid the strap and opened it.  It was full of parchment, the topmost sheaf seemed to be the front page of the daily prophet.

            "What…?"

            "Don't ask questions, not yet.  That stuff is for later, first I'll run through the highlights."

            "OK."

            "Right, two nights ago Azkaban was destroyed."

            "WHAT?"

            "I said don't ask questions until I'm finished.  The prison was attacked and pretty much levelled.  We have no proof as to who did it, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out."

            "Voldemort!  He broke my father out didn't he?"

            "We are working under the assumption that he did.  It seems pretty clear that your father and several others escaped, we're not sure exactly how many.  The explosion pretty much destroyed all trace of their getaway."  Draco sat back and closed his eyes.  He had been expecting this day to come, but that didn't make it any easier.  Etean continued talking.

            "Now, we had been expecting Voldemort to pull something like this. The way we saw it, it was always going to be a necessary step in whatever plans he was making.  He simply needed the assistance of his Death Eaters and well, there were quite a few of them in Azkaban.  Too many.  We had planned for this and, though the suddenness of it surprised us, we were ready to cope with it.

            "Then there was last night."

            "Last night?"

            "Yes, but then last night something happened that we hadn't planned on happening, not this soon anyway.  Last night the Death Eaters attacked the Ministry of Magic."

            "What?"

            "Please, enough with the questions Draco.  Let me talk."

            "Sorry."

            "Right, now it wasn't a big attack, there were less than a half dozen Death Eaters involved by all accounts.  But that wasn't the problem.  The problem was the target."

            "Wha…"  Draco's voice trailed off as Etean raised an eyebrow at him.  "Sorry."

            "It was a precision attack, they broke into a Ministerial department and stole something.  Something we didn't want them to find for a long time.  Take a look."  He gestured to the folder, Draco picked it up and thumbed through it.  "The sketch near the back."  Draco found it and pulled it out.

            "This?"

            "Yes."  It was a sketch of a small stone tablet covered in strange writings and symbols.  "Ever seen it before?"

            "No.  What is it?"

            "That, Draco is the reason that The Circle recruited you."

            "This?...What?"

            "You knew coming into this that The Circle was planning on moving on Voldemort and you knew that we planned on using you to do it.  What you didn't know was how we planned on using you or why we chose you in the first place.  It has to do with who, or rather what you are."

            "And what am I?"

            "Do you believe in fate Draco?"

            "You mean all that predetermination rubbish?  No."

            "No, me neither, I find it all very boring.  But I can also see where the idea came from.  Certain things about us, about the way we are born do affect our lives in many ways.  One of these things is our abatiles.  Each is unique, no two are the same.  If you know how to look at them, they can tell you a lot about a person.  Yours, we discovered, in particular is rather interesting, and not in a good way I'm afraid."

            "I'm still not following you."

            "Patience you will soon enough."  He gestured to the sketch again.  "We call that the Abatile Neshatz – the Soul Seeker."  Draco didn't have a clue what that meant.

            "Oh, yeah.  Right."  He said sarcastically.

            "Yes, right.  It's old, predating the Empire by a long way.  We don't know exactly who made it, but we know what it does."

            "And what does it do?"

            "Well amongst other things it can locate and identify specific patterns within a soul and amplify them so they can be seen."  He raised a hand to cut off the question that Draco was obviously going to ask.  "As I said we don't know who made it, we do however know who used it.

"That tablet was used by the Emperors to choose their heirs.  They didn't rely on blood to decide who succeeded them, they wanted a much safer and more reliable method.  A wise choice given the power and responsibility they were passing on.  That's where that tablet comes in.  They used it to control and ensure the succession of their throne.  Each one used the tablet when they were nearing the end of their reign, it allowed them to see the face of their 'aquelle dechar' – literally translated it means the one who was to come after.  In modern terms it meant their heir, the one person in the entire world that could take their place when they were gone.  More often than not it chose one of their children, but not always.  The tablet examined the Emperor's soul and chose the person who was best suited to replace them.  This ensured that the new ruler would be strong enough to carry the Qui-del Zahar and rule the Empire.  It was never wrong, right up until Charon, the stone chose the right person every time."

            "Why didn't Charon use it?"

            "He did, but it didn't work, he saw no one.  That was the final reason why he chose to shatter the Qui-del Zahar, by showing him nothing, the tablet told him that there was no one in the whole world that could rule after him – the line of Emperors was broken, the Empire was doomed."

            "But what does this have to do with me?"  Etean became very serious.

            "Voldemort now has that tablet and we can only assume that he knows how to use it.  When he does, what face do you think Voldemort will see?"  He paused, staring at Draco.  Draco's mind went numb, it couldn't be…

            "Me?"  Etean nodded slowly.  "But…how?  How can I be his heir, I'm not even related to him."

            "That doesn't matter.  This is nothing to do with being related to him, you don't have to be.  But you _are _his heir.  Now he knows it, he's going to come looking for you.  Don't you see?  You're his rival."

"Rival?"

"Yes, why do you think Voldemort has gone to all this trouble to get the tablet?"

"I don't know."

"Voldemort wanted the tablet so that he could identify his heir.  Why?  I can guarantee you it isn't because he wants to make friends with you and play happy families.  Voldemort is, and has always been obsessed with power.  He has gained quite a bit of it and now he is desperate to hang onto it.  He wants to eliminate you.  He won't suffer a rival.  Someone who could challenge him."

"But I'm not his rival, I don't want to challenge him."

"Is that so?  Isn't that what you agreed to do?  You joined The Circle, knowing that you would be going up against him one day."

"Yes, but I only agreed to help you destroy him.  I never wanted to face him alone and I certainly never signed on to replace him.  I don't want to be the Dark Lord."

"Nothing says you have to.  Your life is will be what you make it and nothing more.  All that this means is that you have the potential to take his place as Dark Lord.  Potential, that's all.  It doesn't mean that you have to do it or that you're evil, just that you could one day reach the same level as he has."  Draco shook his head, he couldn't believe this.  He felt sure that he was going to throw up.  Him?  Take over as Dark Lord?  He couldn't.  Then his mind stopped, a question popped into his head.

            "Hold on.  You said that Voldemort got the tablet too soon.  You wanted him to get it.  You wanted him to find out that I am his heir didn't you?"

            "Yes, we did."

            "Why?"

            "Why do you think?  I told you we were trying to bring Voldemort down, how did you think we would do it?"

            "Well I…I don't know.  I certainly didn't think you'd be using me like…like bait."

            "We are not just using you as bait Draco, in fact you're the hook too."

            "What?"

            "The Circle has decided to fight Voldemort, the problem is finding him and getting him to stay still long enough to destroy him.  He doesn't exactly advertise his location and believe me, we're tired of trying to second guess him when it comes to his own plans.  We needed him to play this game our way, we needed a means to get him to come to us."

            "Me?"

            "Yes, when we learned about you, the plan was obvious.  We only needed to ensure that you were strong enough to beat him when the time came, then we had to let him know what you were, and what you could do to him and he would do the rest."

            "Yes but it didn't work did it?  I am not strong enough to beat him."

            "No, you're not.  He found the tablet too soon, we don't know how he did, but that is pretty much irrelevant at this point."  Draco stood up, swaying slightly as the carriage rocked underneath him.

            "Yes, at this point we're pretty much fucked.  No, I'm pretty much fucked!"  His tone did nothing to hide the panic he was feeling.  Etean stood and grabbed him by the shoulders.

            "Calm down Draco, you are not fucked…yet.  We can still do this, our plan can still work."

            "How?"

            "By keeping you away from Voldemort for as long as we can.  Long enough for you to learn all that you need to know to be able to beat him."

            "And how the hell do we do that?"

            "By sending you to the one place he can't get to you, the only place you'll be safe for long enough learn all that you need to know."

            "Where?"

            "Hogwarts."

            "Hogwarts?"

            "Yes, that castle is protected in ways you don't understand.  Voldemort can't touch you as long as you're there."

            "But how can I learn what I need to know at Hogwarts?"

            "I'll teach you."

            "You?"

            "Yes," he laughed, "I'm going with you."

            "But…can you do that?"

            "Yes, it's not that hard to get accepted.  The preparations have already been made."

            "But why?  Wouldn't it be better if I just stayed at The Academy?  I could learn it all there.  Voldemort couldn't get me there could he?"

            "No, he couldn't and yes, that is an option.  We could just return to the shadows and wait until you have completed your training.  Voldemort would waste countless time trying in vain to find you."

            "Sounds good to me."

            "Does it?  Say we do it, say we wait.  Suppose for a moment that it takes you a year to complete the training.  No, suppose six months, what else do you think he will be doing during that time apart from hunting for you?"

            "I don't know."

            "Well I'll fill you in then.  We've had a bit more time to think this over this morning.  Here's what we have come up with.

"Voldemort will continue doing what he has always done, torturing, terrorising and murdering innocent people.  He will carry on as he did before but with one major difference."

            "What?"

            "You!  He knows what you are and your absence will convince him that you know too.  The only conclusion he will come to is that either you are hiding, too scared to confront him, or that you are waiting for the right time to come back and attack him.  This, by the way is _exactly_ what you will be doing.  In either case his reaction will be simple.  His uncertainty will force him to redouble his efforts to hold onto the power he has and his attempts to attain more."  Etean sat down.  "In short, things will get worse, a lot worse.  And it will be all the harder for us to strike at him when we try to."  He paused and waited for Draco to sit down.  "Does that sound like a good situation to you?"

            Draco thought about it, desperate to find some flaw, something wrong with Etean's reasoning.  But Etean was right, that is precisely what Voldemort would do.  So what?  So what if Voldemort went on a rampage and levelled the whole world?  If Draco had to face him, better that he faced him when he was ready, when he could…could what?  What was Draco's aim here?  Did he really want to destroy Voldemort?  Yes he had decided that he did but why?  Was it about doing what was right and if so, right for whom?

The more he thought about it, the more certain that he hadn't even considered what was right when he had made the decision.  This was about getting out from under his fathers thumb, about gaining some independence.  But if he did want to be independent, to make his own way in the world without his father or anyone else barking orders at him then he had to face facts.  Decisions and actions have consequences and now he would have no one else to blame it on.  If people died because of him, because of a decision, a choice he made then it would be his fault.  It didn't matter if they were muggles or wizards, it would still be his fault and no one else's.

            "No, it doesn't sound like a good situation at all.  But how does me going to Hogwarts make it any better?"

            "Because while you're there, you'll be visible.  He will be able to see you, but not get to you and that will drive him mad.  More importantly it will make him fixate on you and blinded to all other concerns.  While he is busy plotting to get at you, he won't be plotting and killing elsewhere.  What's more, if we do this right, he won't even know that you know any of this.  He won't see you training, won't see you prepare.  When you do go up against him, he'll underestimate you and you will be at the advantage."

            Draco lowered his head into his hands, the cold realisation of his situation set in.  Somehow he had never really thought about the reality of what joining The Circle had meant.  Now, it was before him and it terrified him.

            "I can't do this."

            "You have no choice."

            "Why?  Because of The Circle?  Because of your rules?"  Fear fuelled the anger in his voice.  He felt trapped, he wanted to run but he couldn't, they were still in the air, there was nowhere to go.

            "Yes, the rules still bind you but that is not why you have no choice.  This is a situation that you cannot escape.  No matter where you go, nothing you can do can change what you are.  Only by destroying Voldemort will you have any future."  Draco didn't lift his head.  If what Etean was telling him was true, then he was right, there was no way out except to face Voldemort.  Etean leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.  "I told you when this started that you would not face him alone I to that I hold.  When the time comes Draco, I will face him with you."

            "I thought The Circle moved in shadows, you nudge and whisper."

            "That's true, but I did not say The Circle will be with you, I said _I_ would be."

            "Can you save me from Voldemort?"

            "I don't know, maybe, maybe not.  All I can say is that I will try."

            The Carriage rocked over, starting its descent.  Draco sat up and looked out the window.  He suddenly didn't want to talk about this anymore.

            "So, what now?  What do we do until its time to go back to Hogwarts?"

            "Not much, just wait."

            "Wait?"

            "Yes, but not for long, it'll be time to go back in five days."

            "Five…but that's impossible…it's only…what date is it?"

            "August 26th.  Don't worry, nobody ever keeps good track of time in The Academy."  Draco moved closer to the window and looked down, they were descending towards London.

            "What's to stop them coming for me before we go to Hogwarts?  This is a little public don't you think?"

            "Maybe, but we intend to keep them busy over the next few days.  That was where everyone was rushing off to earlier.  They are going to create a diversion, several diversions actually.  We really have no choice.  This is the only place we can go.  Besides it's where we need to leave from to get to the school."  The carriage headed down.

_A/N:  Some of you reacted to the Granger situation, you were curious and I have to admit, that is what I wanted.  Cheers for the reviews, it seems you really like this story.  Well keep reading, we are not there yet.  And by the way, the Granger thing, if I've left you hanging…tough.  Did you really think I was just going to tell you…You're just going to have to wait._

_Bubye__ for now._


	10. The Leaky Cauldron

            Draco paced back and forth in his tiny room.  The light from the window was fading into evening.  Draco didn't notice as it got steadily darker, he wouldn't even have noticed if the room were on fire.  Etean had left him alone to think, to come to terms with the situation and that was what he was trying to do.  He had been trying for almost two days, he hadn't slept at all, instead he had sat by the window, then lain on the bed, then stood in the corner and now he endlessly paced the floor, trying to make sense of it all.  But he was getting nowhere.  He still couldn't get past the gut wrenching fear about what Etean had told him was to come.  For the whole summer he had been so consumed with the pain and struggle of training for The Circle that he had never had any time to think about what was to come after he became a member.  He had known that an encounter with Voldemort was likely, maybe even inevitable but he found himself completely unprepared for actually knowing that it was going to happen.

            He walked over to the window and looked down at the street.  The window of this room in the Leaky Cauldron looked out over the muggle street below.  From here he could see a constant stream of muggles bustling past.  The same thought that had come to him in the carriage on the way here returned.  'How many of them will die if I just turn tail and run?  How many deaths could I live with?'

            As he searched for the answer his thoughts returned to the deaths that had already occurred.  Well the death really.  He hadn't really known Percy Weasley that well.  Sure he knew him, he had been Head Boy for Merlin's sake but it wasn't like they had been best friends or anything.  Now Percy was dead.  He wondered how it had happened, the paper he had been given didn't say specifically.  He wondered if his father had been the one who actually killed him.

            He supposed it wasn't really his fault, there was nothing he could have done to save him.  But was there something Etean could have done?  Was Percy's death just a detail?  Just a snag in The Circle's perfect plan?  The Circle had been the ones who planted the tablet in the Ministry.  A good place to let Voldemort find it, Etean had said, therefore they had to expect that anyone in the Ministry, in that Department would be in danger when he actually came looking for it.  _'It had to be convincing, Voldemort had to believe that he had really discovered the tablet.  We couldn't just give it to him.'_  Etean's voice echoed through his head.  Draco swore to himself, this was going nowhere.  He had to get out.  He didn't care that Etean had told him to stay put, that it was dangerous for him to be seen.  He was going crazy stuck in this tiny room.

            He pulled on his cloak and convinced it to make him invisible, then he crossed to the door and entered the outer room.  His senses told him that it was deserted and he wasn't wrong.  Etean still wasn't back from whatever he had run off to do that morning.  Draco walked up to the door leading to the rest of the Leaky Cauldron.  He paused before opening it, he sensed someone outside in the corridor.  After whoever it was had passed by he silently opened the door and stepped out.  He took a moment to get his bearings before heading out towards the stairs.

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            Hermione was uncomfortable, how could she not be?  Funerals weren't supposed to be comfortable.  Not that this was a funeral, they hadn't really buried Percy, the truth was they couldn't find enough of him to bury.  His body was completely destroyed by whatever Voldemort and his pack of monsters had done to him.  Poor Percy, poor Mr and Mrs Weasley, this had to be so hard on them.  They hadn't spoken about it since…since it happened, but she could see it in their eyes, they blamed themselves.  The rest of the family weren't taking it any better.  In their own way, each of them had convinced themselves that it was all their fault.  So here they sat, round a single table in the Leaky Cauldron, she had never known the Weasley's to be so quiet, especially when they were all together.  She felt worse for them when she saw how people were treating them.  Everyone in the place was staring at them, whispering under their breath.  With the silence of their table, every single whisper echoed almost as loud as a shout in the pub.

            BAM!!  Ron slammed his fist on the table, making them all jump.  He stood up and glared around the room.

            "Alright then," he bellowed, "you want to stare at something?  Well stare at me?  Here I am!  Here we all are. The Weasley family.  Yes that Weasley family.  Yes he was my brother."  He kicked his chair away and stepped toward a young couple at a table by the fire.  "You want to whisper about something?  I'll give you something to stare about."  Harry jumped up and grabbed hold of him, trying to wrestle him back.  He wouldn't have managed it at all if Charlie hadn't joined in.  Between them they got Ron to sit back down but he didn't stay put.  As soon as they let him go, he was up and gone, heading straight for the door.  Mr. Weasley made to stand up, trying to follow his son but Harry beat him to it.

            "It's alright Mr. Weasley," he said, "I think he'd be better off alone for a minute.  I'll go keep an eye on him."

            "Thank you Harry."  Mr Weasley replied in a choked up voice.  Harry turned and chased after Ron as the door slammed shut behind him.  Mr. Weasley sat back down, Mrs Weasley buried her head in her husband's neck and sobbed hard.  Beside Hermione, Ginny put her head down and started to cry her eyes out into her folded arms.  Hermione put her hand on her back, she opened her mouth to say something but she stopped before making a sound.  What could she say?  She hadn't the faintest idea of anything she could say that wouldn't sound like some stupid platitude.  In the end she just left her arm round Ginny as she sobbed and struggled hard not to burst into tears herself.  After a few minutes, Mr Weasley spoke again.

            "We shouldn't have come here, we should be at home."

            "Don't be silly Dad," Bill replied, "none of us wanted to go home, not tonight.  We are better off here.  At least here people leave us alone."

            "Maybe, but at home, NOBODY WOULD BE STARING AT US!"  He shouted the last part, causing everyone in the pub to suddenly grow very interested in their drinks as they desperately tried to avoid being caught looking.

            "Awe Dad, don't you start shouting too."  Ginny stood up and wailed at him through her tears.  At the sight of her red eyes, Mr. Weasley welled up, he tried to say something to his daughter but his voice failed him.  Hermione looked away from him to see Charlie signalling to her from the opposite side of the table.  Catching on, stood and put her arm around Ginny again.

            "Come on Gin.  It's been a long day, why don't I take you upstairs to your room and you can lie down for a bit?"  Ginny shook her head.

            "No, I'm fine here."

            "No you're not, you're tired and your upset.  You'll feel better after a rest."

            "Yeah go on Gin, you look shattered."  Bill joined in.  Ginny relented.  She allowed Hermione to lead her away from the table towards the stairs.  They didn't say a word as they walked up the three flights to the room the two of them were sharing.  Hermione made sure Ginny didn't want anything and left her to sleep.  She turned and walked slowly back down to the main pub, though she wasn't in any hurry to get there.  At the bottom of the last flight of stairs she stopped as a fit of coughing took her.  '_Damn it, I still haven't shifted this blasted cough.'_  She dug in her pocket for the bottle of medicine.  '_Blasted stuff doesn't seem to do anything._'  She opened the bottle and took a big gulp of the medicine.  The coughing subsided, '_for now_'.  She leaned against the wall and tried to get her breath back.  Damn that cough, she had been barking like a dog for two days now with no sign of it getting any better.  Really this was beyond a joke.  She had all the respect in the world for her parents but muggle medicine that was another thing.  Her father had given her this vile stuff and promised that it would make her cough better, but it didn't seem to do anything except taste bad.  She was looking forward to being back at Hogwarts.  Madame Pomfrey could deal with this cough in a heartbeat.

            "Are you alright?"  She almost screamed in fright as Draco materialised out of the shadows beside her.  She spun round and fought down another round of coughing.

            "Jesus Christ Malfoy!  What the hell are you trying to do, scare me to death?"  Malfoy looked strange, like he was worried about something.

            "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.  I just heard you coughing and I wanted to see if you were alright that's all."

            "Well in future don't go around hiding in shadows if you don't want to scare people.  And I'm fine since you ask, its nothing, just a silly cough."

            "Oh," he replied, "good."  This did _not _sound like Malfoy.

            "What's gotten into you?"

            "What?...What do you mean?"

            "I mean that you are usually hard set to even talk to me Malfoy.  And now you're concerned about how I am?"  He drew back, only then did she realise how close he had been standing beside her.

            "Sorry Hermione, I was only asking.  I'll leave if you're going to take it personally."  He made to walk past her to the door, she reached out and grabbed him.

            "Hermione?"

            "What?"

            "You called me Hermione?"

            "Yes, it is your name isn't it?"

            "Yes but since when do you call me Hermione?  I'm normally Granger or," her tone turned sour, "Mudblood."

            "Yes, well, not anymore."  He tried to leave again, she held him back.

            "Oh no, not so fast.  What do you mean not anymore?"

            "I mean that…well I mean that I don't care what I used to call you.  I used to do a lot of silly things…Look I can call you Mudblood if you like?"

            "Why would I _like_ being insulted Malfoy?"

            "Well you don't seem to want to be called by your name so what do you want me to call you?"

            "Well…I guess…well Hermione is my name so…"

            "Fine then, goodbye _Hermione_."  Again he turned to leave, this time he got his hand onto the doorknob before she stopped him.  "What?"  He snapped.

            "Don't go…"

            "You want me to stay Gra…I mean Hermione.  Whatever for?"  His face twisted into a wicked grin.  Hermione sighed, '_yep, the same old smarmy git_'.

            "Get over yourself Malfoy.  I was going to say, don't go that way."

            "Why not?"

            "Because the entire Weasley family is out there."  He looked at the door and then closed his eyes.  He let out a long sigh.

            "Oh."

            "Oh, and I don't think they would appreciate seeing the son of the man who killed their son, their brother right now do you?"

            "No, I don't suppose they would."  He paused for a long moment before he turned and headed the other way, to the back door into Diagon Alley.  He got ten paces before he paused.

            "Thanks Hermione."  He said over his shoulder.  And he was gone, she was alone in the passageway, confused.  Was that really Draco Malfoy?  What the hell had gotten into him all of a sudden.  She shook her head and went back into the pub.  Ron and Harry were back, but they were sitting on their own in a booth by the windows.  Hermione hesitated before heading over to join them.  They made space for her without a word and she sat down.  They just sat in silence for hours, no one said a word.  As she sat there, surrounded by her friends pain, Hermione felt a little guilty because her mind kept wandering, she kept replaying the incident with Malfoy over and over again in her head.  Finally they went to bed, she lay there still thinking about him.

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            Draco marched out of the pub and headed down Diagon Alley, not really paying attention to where he was going.  He just wandered, his mind focussed on a certain Ms Granger.  Damn it, how the hell did she always manage to affect him like this.  What the hell had he been playing at before, calling her Hermione?  The first time he had done it had been an accident, a reflex, the Hermione he had dreamt about had insisted he call her that and he had forgotten that the real girl would have no idea why he did it.  So he had made a mistake, a slip of the tongue, so what?  Why the hell hadn't he just played it down?  Put on some show of bravado and gotten himself out of it.  That's what he had always done in the past so why not now?  Maybe he was too tired, he couldn't remember the last time he had slept.  '_Maybe I'm just tired of fighting her all the time_'.

            Where the hell had that come from?  He searched his brain for the source of the traitorous thought but it eluded him. Tired of fighting?  No, of fighting '_her_'.  He shook his head.  No, not that, I don't think I could take _that_ on top of everything else.

            He was so consumed by his thoughts that he had failed to notice that he had wandered into Knockturn Alley.  Thus far the hags and other locals hadn't decided to bother him yet, he had been lucky.  He still hadn't noticed when he walked slap bang into a wall of human barring his path.  He raised his eyes to look the person in the eye when he was grabbed from behind.  He felt someone grab him and hold him.  He heard the word 'Portus' in his ear and he felt the hook behind his navel and the world vanished.  When it came back, he was suddenly free, his captors released him without a word.  He drew his wand and spun around to face him but there was no one to be seen.  He was alone in a small woody clearing, surrounded by shadows and trees.  He took a breath and calmed himself, he pushed his senses out to feel the world around him.

At first he felt nothing, then a presence approached him.  He turned to face the approaching person levelling his wand at the darkness before they had appeared he bellowed.

"Lumos" The forest was instantly illuminated, he could see the face of the person who was approaching.

"Hello Draco," his father said, "I think we should talk."

_A/N: Short one this time guys but believe me we are nowhere near done yet. This is only the beginning of Draco's troubles._


	11. A Shot in the Dark

Lucius stepped out, fully into the moonlight. Draco lowered his wand, not far, just low enough so that he could see Lucius over the glare the spell.

"Nice to see you again father." He fought to keep his tone light, to hide the fear that he felt rising in him as he looked into his father's eyes. "What precisely did you want to talk about?"

"Don't be flippant Draco. You know full well what I want to talk to you about." Lucius drawled.

Draco, laughed, trying not to panic, trying to pretend that this was just a normal conversation. Lucius would talk down to him, he would cower and that would be an end of it. He lowered his wand completely. 'Look passive, he's in charge here, not you.' The old game, the one he had learned to play with his father over the years returned to him automatically. "How would I know father? You haven't told me yet."

Lucius turned and started to walk slowly around the clearing, circling Draco. Draco fought hard to stop himself turning to keep facing him. Lucius wouldn't expect him to be that defensive, not right away. 'This might not be it,' he thought in a desperate attempt to remain calm, 'Voldemort might not be after you yet. Play the game, play it his way and you might get out of this with your skin intact.' Draco ground his teeth but tried not to let the tension show as Lucius moved around behind him. His senses told him where Lucius was, the hair on his neck tingled as he sensed his father's agitation.

"I know I haven't told you Draco," there was no trace of Lucius' emotions in his voice, "But the fact remains that you do know what I am talking about."

'Cheeky, be cheeky. Let him slap you down.' "Afraid I don't father. I have no clue as to what you want to discuss. Unless it has to do with your recent…holiday that is."

"Be silent Draco!" His tone was exactly what Draco had expected it to be. Despite himself he still shivered at the sound. He didn't respond. Lucius continued to walk around him, he returned to his original position in front of him. His eyes locked onto Draco's with the same cold stare that had broken him so often before. After the summer he had just gone through, Draco was not even close to being scared by those eyes anymore. Still, he was playing a role here, the easiest role he could play, he was being himself. He held his father's eyes for a second before looking away. Lucius laughed. "You _have_ changed Draco. I must admit that when The Dark Lord informed me of your value I doubted that it was possible, but I see it now. You feign compliance while your mind remains defiant, an impressive display to be sure, but not really convincing. Shall we dispense with it?"

Draco's heart sank, Lucius was not one to play the game like this. He was telling the truth; he could see through Draco's act. 'Fine, if that didn't work, try something else.' He looked up, staring into Lucius' eyes, letting his full spirit show. He held the stare for almost thirty seconds without flinching before Lucius broke off and resumed his almost casual stroll, circling him. Again, Draco didn't turn.

"Fine, no more games," he said, "So why don't you drop the riddles and just come out and say what you came here to say." He forced his tone to show more confidence than he was feeling. His stomach filled with butterflies. Now he was improvising, praying that Lucius wouldn't call his bluff.

Lucius seemed amused, he chuckled again. "It is abundantly clear to me that you have had a very _interesting_ summer Draco. Did you really think that The Dark Lord would fail to notice the change in you?"

'Interesting summer?' Draco paused, 'What does he mean by that?' He shrugged, "To be honest, I don't really care what The Dark Lord notices and what he doesn't." Draco had gone out on a limb and it started to tremble as he felt the wave of anger emanate from Lucius, but it was too late to retreat now. Now he had to push on, it was his only chance. 'Make him mad, make him overreact, then run!'

Lucius' tone filled with ire, "How dare you?"

"I dare because I choose to father. What else am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for Voldemort to come get me?" It happened quickly, Draco didn't even see Lucius raise his wand. His instincts kicked in as the spell shot at him. He saw it slow and ducked under it. When it passed he stood up, turning to point his wand at Lucius. For once his father seemed truly speechless.

Draco smiled, "Nice try father."

Lucius look of surprise was replaced by a tiny smile, "If I hadn't seen it, I would not have believed it. Well done Draco."

"What?"

"You have just proved beyond all doubt just how useful you could be to The Dark Lord. He said you would, _he always knows_." Now Draco was confused, this wasn't how this was supposed to happen. Wasn't Voldemort supposed to want him dead?

"Useful? How?"

"The Dark Lord knows your potential Draco, he has seen it. He wants to help you Draco."

"Help me?"

"Yes, he wants to show you just how far your abilities can take you. With his help you could be great Draco, truly great."

"And why the hell does Voldemort want to help me?" He felt it again, the wave of anger as he said the name.

This time Lucius managed to control it. "He wants you to be his ally Draco. He has foreseen that between you, you could command a power that would be without equal."

'_I guarantee you Voldemort doesn't want to play happy families, he won't suffer a rival._' Etean's voice sounded in his head, almost on cue. Draco hesitated. Was Etean right, or was Voldemort really not interested in fighting him? After all, if Draco was to be as powerful as Voldemort someday, then together they would be unstoppable. The uncertainty mounted in Draco's mind, who was lying, and who was telling the truth?

"So Voldemort wants…wants me to be…his partner?"

"Yes, that is one way to put it." Lucius didn't flinch, he didn't so much as twitch as he said the words but Draco saw it, the momentary flicker in what he was sensing from his father. Lucius was lying, Draco was as certain of it as he was that he was standing there. This was a trap! He pushed his senses out further and noticed that they were not alone. He could feel someone else, a small presence approaching silently from behind him. Lucius' sense changed again, he was tensing, preparing for something. Draco marvelled at how well he could hide it. There was absolutely nothing in the way he acted to give him away. Draco flexed the fingers of his right hand, tightening the grip on his wand. Lucius noticed the movement, Draco felt him tense again. Draco smiled at him.

"You know father, I might have believed you, but you are _such_ a bad liar." Lucius opened his mouth to respond but Draco didn't give him the chance, he sensed the figure behind him prepare to attack and spun round, aiming into the gloom between the trees.

"Stupefy!" he roared. He saw the spell flash and light up its target but he didn't have to time to watch it hit. His senses told him that behind him, Lucius had attacked again. Trusting that he was slowing the incoming spell he turned again, and ran out into the forest. Once inside he was instantly lost in the darkness. His senses couldn't make out the trees any better than his eyes could without light. He slowed his pace, blundering and stumbling forward with no idea where he was going. He heard voices, the sounds of pursuit behind him. He broke into a run again, desperate to escape.

Running in the dark in a forest is never a good idea. Draco found that out quickly enough when he met the harder side of a tree. He hit his head and he was dazed, he could feel blood trickle down into his eyes. Or was it sweat? He couldn't tell in the darkness but whatever it was, it stung his eyes and blinded him even worse than before. He started to stumble forward again when a flash of light to his right lit up a Death Eater between the trees launching a spell at him. He didn't feel it this time, his head hurt too much to concentrate. His normal instincts kicked in, he ducked behind a tree and turned away from his attacker.

He hadn't gone far when another appeared to his left, again he dodged and turned, running now in blind panic. He could hear the shouts all around him, they were surrounding him, herding him in. He paused for breath and looked around him, it was too dark. He could barely even see the trees that were right beside him. He heard a noise, a breaking twig and he spun, launching a stunner at the sound. He saw the flash of light as his spell as it detonated against a tree trunk, inches from a masked Death Eater's head. The man spun, he had been surprised by Draco's attack. Then he raised his wand and bellowed.

"Avada Kadavera!" In the moments that followed the spell, the green flash burst from the Death Eater's wand and shot at Draco. The sudden threat focused his mind, he felt the world shift but the spell came on, as fast as normal. He only had a moment to turn away before it hit him!

Everything stopped!

And started again. Death hurt it seemed, it hurt a lot. Draco felt a flash of pain in his right hand. His wand flew from his grip as he fell howling to the floor. The pain was so severe that it made him nauseous, he looked down in the darkness, expecting to find his arm gone, torn off by the spell, but it was still there. He knew that he should be dead but he was still alive, it hurt too much for him to be dead. He heard his father shout and a second green flash lit the forest behind him as his attacker fell dead where he landed. Draco didn't see this, fear and panic drove him forward again, cradling his arm he stumbled through the trees. He continued to hear the Death Eaters behind him shout and yell to one another. Amidst it all he heard his father's voice repeatedly order the others not to kill him. Draco ran on, ducking left and right as fast as he could in a desperate bid to escape. He reached a steep embankment but couldn't see the edge in the darkness. Over he went and down, rolling and bouncing down the slope, colliding hard with bushes and rocks as he fell. He hit the bottom and remained conscious just long enough to crawl a few feet to the base of a large oak tree. The pain faded, then it got darker.

* * *

Draco woke up. He was still lying by the base of the tree. It was brighter, just after dawn by the light. His whole body was awash with agony, except for his right arm, he couldn't feel that at all. He tried to move but the pain stopped him, he grimaced and shut his eyes until the pain subsided. He opened his eyes, squinting in the light. Darkness and shadow swirled before his eyes. He struggled to focus. The first thing he saw as his vision cleared was a pair of black boots. Draco eyes moved up to look at the owner of the boots. His heart skipped a beat. Standing less than five feet from Draco was the unmistakable shape of a black clad Death Eater. Draco didnt recognise him, but that was hardly a comfort. Every instinct that he possessed was screaming at him to flee, but the pain kept him paralised. It took several long seconds for Draco to realise that the Death Eater wasn't looking at him, his back was turned. Draco was confused, again he tried to sit up, then he heard a voice bellow in his head. 'DON'T MOVE! HE CAN'T SEE YOU!' It was Etean's voice. Where was he? It was clear that the Death Eater couldn't see Draco, how could he miss him if he could? There was a rustle of feathers somewhere above in the trees. The Death Eater looked up briefly before his head snapped round. Something in the trees had drawn his attention. Raising his wand he headed off, disappearing from view. Draco was still afraid to move, how far had he gone? Would he hear him?

There was a second rustle of feathers as a large eagle flew down out of the treetops to settle on a low lying branch in front of Draco. For a minute it just sat there looking at him, then it turned and looked in the direction that the Death Eater had gone. It spread its wings and fluttered down onto the ground. Draco watched as, with the slightest groaning sound it change and grew into a figure in a black cloak. He recognised Etean when he lowered his hood and ran toward him. He put a hand over his mouth to silence him before he could speak.

"Shh," he whispered, "they are really close. They haven't given up looking for you yet." He started to prod and poke Draco all over, prompting stifled groans. "OK, this is going to hurt, try to be quiet. Ready?" He took a hold of Draco and waited for him to nod before hauling him upright. Draco had to bite his lip hard to keep from screaming in agony as he moved. Etean held Draco with one arm and with the other he pulled his cloak up to cover both of them. Draco felt a blast of wind hit him then he was somewhere else. Etean was lowering him onto a bed. He moaned in agony and this time Etean didn't silence him.

"Next time Malfoy, when I tell you to stay put you STAY PUT!" The anger in his voice was clear. Draco started to answer him but a second voice cut him off.

"There will be time for blame later Boy, leave us. I must work now." Poliakov appeared beside the bed and looked down at Draco. He started to examine him, running his fingers across his wounds. Etean turned to leave, he walked out of the room without a word. Poliakov continued to examine Draco, mumbling under his breath as he did. Gradually the pain subsided. Poliakov turned his attention to Draco's right arm, it was still completely numb, his expression changed as he examined it, it became far more serious.

"W…what's…" Draco started but Poliakov shushed him.

"Relax, you need rest." He placed his hand on Draco's head and darkness took him.

* * *

Etean watched through the open bedroom door as Poliakov continued to tend Draco's wounds for several minutes. The Old Man finished in silence and joined Etean in the outer room. Etean started to pace by the fire as the old man entered.

"How is he?"

"Resting! He is in shock. I have tended most of the wounds. The arm will be another matter though."

Etean sighed, "Given that he is only the second recorded person in history to be hit with the killing curse and live, I'd say his arm is a minor concern. If he hadn't been wearing that cloak… How badly was he hurt?"

"Badly! The necrosis is near total below the forearm. I have arrested the decay but I fear the tissues will never recover."

"Is there anything you can do for him?"

Poliakov nodded, "Yes, I can return the use if his arm to him but it will take me some time to prepare the treatment."

"Whatever he needs." Etean turned and started to pace the floor. "I shouldn't have left him alone."

"You had to," Poliakov sighed, "Dumbledore insisted on meeting you. You had to meet him and there was no one else available to watch the boy. If he had stayed here, like you told him, he would have been safe, they wouldn't have found him."

Etean stopped pacing and rounded on the Old Man, "How _did_ they find him? They were supposed to be too busy running from the aurors."

Poliakov sighed, "I don't know what happened. We tipped off the aurors and they did launch an attack. Several members were eye witnesses to the raids. They were efficient and accurate, but somehow the Death Eaters slipped through the net. We were in the process of tracking them down again when we realised that they had Draco."

Etean was about to speak when a familiar, if not pleasant voice filled the room. "What the hell is going on here?" Both men turned as the source of the voice appeared by the door. Lord Menai stepped forward, his eyes were burning with rage. Etean stood and faced him.

"What are you doing here, Menai?"

"I am here to find out just what the hell you are doing, Etean. Why did you rescue the boy?"

Etean rolled his eyes, "Why? What do you mean why?"

Menai glared at him, "I mean why, Boy. I was under the impression that we _wanted_ Voldemort to capture him."

Etean couldn't stop his voice from growing louder as his tone turned to anger, "Don't call me 'Boy', Menai."

Menai advanced on Etean, "I will call you whatever I choose to, Boy."

Etean stepped forward, only inches remained between them, "I said don't call me Boy!"

As they faced each other a shrill, keening wail filled the air. The silver rings that both of them wore burned bright as it did. Poliakov stepped between them and shoved them apart, the noise died.

"ENOUGH!" he roared. Menai glared at Poliakov, Etean turned to face the wall. "We have enough problems to deal with without being at each others throats." He shook his head and turned to Menai. "This isn't helping. You know full well that Robert _had_ to rescue the boy, Victor. As we discussed, Voldemort cannot be allowed to attempt the ritual until the boy is ready. If he did it now, the boy would die and all that we have invested in this will have been for nought."

"Well if that's the case, Lord Poliakov, why did Etean leave him alone? He may as well have just handed the boy over to Voldemort."

"He…"

"I was doing my job, Menai." Etean interrupted. "Some of us actually attend to our responsibilities you know."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean? Exactly what responsibilities have I been neglecting?"

Etean set his hands on his hips, "Well the Dementors for one thing."

"The Dementors?" Menai's tone was getting icier by the minute.

"Yes, the Dementors. You know the ones you are supposed to be finding? How long have you been at it now, six months? How hard can it be to locate a whole fucking army of Dementors, Menai?"

Menai stepped forward again, "Don't _you_ presume to tell _me_ how to do my job, Boy." Etean turned to face him again.

"And don't you presume to tell me how to do mine," Etean snarled in response, "And DON'T call me BOY!"

Poliakov raised his hand, "Do I have to separate you two again?" Both of them stepped back once more. Poliakov paused and sighed before turning his attention once again to Menai. "He does have a point Victor. Things would be much easier in the coming months if we didn't have the Dementor army to worry about."

Menai straightened up. When he spoke, his voice was calmer but it still had the anger in it, "I am more than aware of the situation. But as you two, and so many of the other Council members fail to realise, finding something which Voldemort has hidden is not an easy task."

"We all realise that, Victor, but the fact remains that it is necessary to find them and deal with them."

"I know full well what is necessary, my lord, but this situation is fast becoming untenable. I am not the one that is making things harder than they need to be."

"That's as may be. But the Council, yourself included Victor, agreed to this course. We must stick to it."

"Indeed. It seems we must." He straightened his robes and turned to leave. "I must return to other, more important business but I feel I must make myself clear. My patience with the Council's decision in this matter is nearing its end." He turned and bowed slightly to Poliakov. "Good evening, my lord." And he was gone.

Poliakov turned to Etean, "You shouldn't provoke him like that."

Etean kicked out, sending a chair flying to smash into the wall, "Why the hell not?" He shouted, turning to face Poliakov. "I'm not afraid of him."

"I know you're not, but you are in the minority in that regard. Have you ever thought about why?"

"I don't care what the rest of you think about him, one of these days…"

"What? You'll attack him? You know you can't do that."

"That doesn't stop me from wanting to. Every time I see him, I want to smash his face in."

Poliakov nodded, "Yes, I can see it in your eyes. But that is not your fight. You are a lot like your father in many respects, but you are _not_ your father. His fight with Menai is not yours."

Etean shrugged, "Menai doesn't seem to make the distinction, why should I?"

"Because, you have far more important things to worry about now. Your only job is to make sure that Draco is ready for when the time comes. Do you understand me, Boy?"

"Yes, Old Man, I understand." Etean turned and faced the door to the bedroom and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a series of deep breaths. His eyes snapped open, his head raised. "Shit," he said, "He's awake!"

_A/N: Just something feel I should point out. Harry is the one who, according to the prophesy, has the power to destroy Voldemort. This story DOES NOT contradict that. The question you should be asking is, does The Circle know about the prophesy? Even if they do – Harry can destroy Voldemort, Draco can replace him – the whole heir thing just means that Draco could go down the same road as Voldemort did when he became the Dark Lord, not necessarily that he can kill him._

_Anywho__, keep reading, you should get it soon._


	12. The Odds of Survival

The door opened, light flooded into the bedroom, Draco shut his eyes and tried to feign sleep. He didn't move as he heard someone enter the room. He heard the door close, followed by footsteps as they walked across to stand at the end of the bed. For a long minute, Etean just stood there, watching as Draco pretended to sleep.

"I'll make you a deal Draco," he said at last, "I won't patronise you by pretending that you didn't just hear what you just heard and you don't patronise me by pretending to be asleep." Draco opened his eyes, with some difficulty and not a little pain, he sat up and looked at Etean. Etean stared at him for a few minutes. Reading his expression, Draco thought he looked sad.

"How do you feel?" He said at last.

Draco tried to think of something, some stinging remark to hurl at him. But nothing came, "Like someone just tried to kill me." It was the truth.

Etean snorted, "I suppose that's good considering that is what just happened. Seriously though, how do you feel?"

"The pain is almost gone," Draco lied, he still hurt all over. He looked down at his arm. It was bandaged from the elbow right down to his fingertips. "I think these bandages are too tight. I can't feel my hand."

Etean paused, then shook his head, "No the bandages are fine, they aren't why you can't feel your hand."

Something in his tone worried Draco, "What do you mean?" he asked nervously.

"You were hit with the killing curse Draco," Etean shook his head slightly. "It wasn't a full hit. You managed to dodge the worst of it. Your cloak took most of the rest…but some got through. Your hand is dead Draco."

"What do you mean dead?"

"I mean dead," Etean repeated the words as calmly as he had first said them, "Dead, as in no longer alive. The spell killed the nerves and muscles in your arm. Everything from the forearm down is _dead_." Draco looked at his hand again. He tried to move his fingers but he couldn't even manage to make them twitch. He started to pull at the bandages, trying to free his fingers. Etean moved around the bed and grabbed his left hand. "Don't. Leave them on."

Draco looked up at him, "Can you fix it?"

"No," there was a hint of sadness in Etean's voice, "We can't bring it back to life, nothing can. Lord Poliakov is preparing a treatment that will return the use of it to you. But it will never be as it was." Draco looked back to his arm, it was completely numb, like it wasn't even there. Etean released him and moved over to the window. "Tell me, did your father's actions surprise you tonight?"

Draco thought hard before answering, "No…not really. He has always been too obsessed with Voldemort to give a damn about me."

"A fair assessment," Etean nodded without turning round, "One that we also made before we contacted you. So…are you going to ask me or not?"

"Ask you what?"

"You heard what we were discussing out there, you must be curious. We were discussing you after all."

"Arguing about me is more what I heard. You don't get on with Lord Menai do you?"

Etean laughed aloud, "That is about the largest understatement that I have ever heard you say Draco. Menai loathes me and I feel exactly the same about him, the reasons are personal and private. But that isn't the question you want to ask me now is it?"

"No…I guess it isn't. What was did he mean when he said that you _wanted_ Voldemort to capture me?"

"We spoke about that before. You know that our plan involved you defeating Voldemort."

"No," Draco turned on the bed to face Etean, "There's more to it than that. Lord Menai mentioned a ritual, what was he talking about?"

Etean closed his eyes and pressed his head against the glass. He sighed loudly and turned round, "Alright then, I'll tell you. I had hoped that we could leave this conversation until later, until you were stronger. But time it appears is set against us.

"The ritual that…Lord Menai spoke of is called The Ascension. But 'ritual' isn't really an accurate description. Really it is a series of complicated rites and rituals culminating in a sacrifice – a human sacrifice." Etean paused, the sound of his words faded away as a lump of ice formed in Draco's gut. "For the one who successfully completes it, The Ascension is the gateway to unbelievable power – the power to control life and death itself. If Voldemort succeeds, if he Ascends then he will be unstoppable."

Etean left the window and started to walk slowly around the room as he continued, "The Circle first learned that Voldemort was trying to perform The Ascension seventeen years ago. We don't know where or how he learned about it but we do know that he was close. By the time we became aware of it, he had already figured out all the pieces of the puzzle but one thing eluded him…the sacrifice. Voldemort learned, and so did we that he could not perform the Ascension then because the soul he needed to sacrifice was beyond his reach."

"You mean me?" Draco swallowed hard, "Voldemort wants to sacrifice…me?"

"Yes…you. The soul that is sacrificed must be of equal merit to the soul that Ascends, exactly equal, no more, no less. In other words, for Voldemort to Ascend he must sacrifice his heir – you. That is why he couldn't do it seventeen years ago, you weren't even born then." Etean turned, pacing back and forth by the end of the bed. "Do you know what happened when Voldemort attacked Harry Potter?"

The question came out of nowhere. Draco was puzzled for several moments before he remembered to answer, "No, nobody knows. He tried to kill Potter but ended up destroying himself," he shrugged, "Or so everyone thought anyway."

Etean nodded, "Yes everyone did, including The Circle. As far as we knew at the time, Voldemort was still searching for his heir. He hadn't learned of the tablet at the time so he was essentially searching blind. That little fact didn't deter him though, he searched and searched. Originally The Council assumed that he believed that Potter was his heir. They believed that Voldemort was attempting to use Harry Potter to Ascend and that he had botched the ritual. It was believed that it was that failure that destroyed him."

"Something tells me it wasn't that simple," said Draco.

"No," Etean sighed, "We know now that Voldemort never believed that Potter was his heir. He tried to kill the boy outright," Etean shrugged, "He must have had his reasons to do it but thus far, they have eluded us," he sighed, "So, for what ever reason Voldemort was gone. The Council actually believed they were off the hook. But then…"

"Then he came back."

"Yes…he came back and by all accounts, worse than ever. We saw evidence of his return almost within days of his…rebirth," Etean shook his head, a visible shudder ran through him, "For the most part, the details of his return have largely escaped us. We have theories and speculations but nothing more. But the how he came back really doesn't matter in the end. He was back and the Council knew that one of his goals would be to find his heir, to find you, and finish what he started. We also realised that Voldemort was now at a disadvantage. He didn't know who you were, but _we_ did. We had figured that out a long time ago. The Circle has been…watching you rather closely for many years. To see if you showed any signs of following in his footsteps – you hadn't by the way. So our question then became what to do with you?"

"Oh," said Draco, there didn't appear to be anything else to say.

"Yes," said Etean quietly, "Oh! The simplest course of action would have been to kill you. I must admit, when I first learned the truth of the situation that that was the course of action I favoured. It was the safer course."

"So…why didn't you…" Draco hesitated, "I mean what changed your mind?"

"Voldemort!"

"Voldemort?"

"Yes, he is evil Draco, and powerful. The simple truth of the matter is that he is too powerful and getting stronger all the time. Killing you would prevent him from becoming all powerful but at the rate he is going, soon that won't matter. We have to stop him and like it or not, this may be our only chance."

"But how can allowing Voldemort to capture me and perform this ritual that will make him all powerful be our only chance to stop him?"

"Because he is strong, too strong for us to take him out with a frontal assault but, in order for him to complete the ritual and Ascend, he will have to let his guard down. I won't go into the details now but, during the final stages of the ritual, he will be vulnerable. When he is you will be in a position to strike, and destroy him. He will be gone forever."

"And what happens to me?"

Etean hesitated, "We aren't sure. If you are strong enough you might survive." Something in his voice made it clear just how unlikely that last part was.

Draco laughed, "Try to sound a little less confident why don't you?"

"I'm not confident," Etean turned and looked Draco in the eye, "You can survive this, but at best I give you have one chance in twenty. This is not a good situation, not what I wanted to happen but here we are. We have no choice now. We…"

Draco raised his left hand and cut him off. The thoughts were buzzing round and round in his head. He looked down at his bandaged right hand, his dead right hand. Dead! Just like the rest of him would be soon. The finality of that thought rocked him. He had been fighting to avoid that thought for the last few days. He was as good as dead. He couldn't run, he had nowhere to hide from it. So he was dead, the end of Draco Malfoy, but what did that matter? Who would miss him? Certainly not his father, probably not even his mother would be that upset. His friends? What friends? Not one of them really gave a damn about him. They might mention him from time to time but not often. Was that all he was? Was that what his life amounted to? He was dead and that was it. But could it be more? Could his death mean something more than his life had? Could he take Voldemort with him? He looked Etean in the eye.

"One chance in twenty?" he strained to make himself sound confident, "Sounds like good odds to me. I'll take the bet. Put me in for a galleon, no a hundred galleons."

Etean looked puzzled, "Are you certain you understood me Draco? You seem to be taking this rather better than I had imagined."

Draco shrugged, "Well considering I have no other choice, I may as well get on with it." He moved to stand up. "What happens now?" Etean moved over and pushed him back onto the bed.

"Now, you rest, we'll finish this conversation later." He put his hand over Draco's eyes and he fell fast asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco awoke to blinding pain. Something was burning his right arm. He screamed and tried to pull away but he couldn't. He opened his eyes to see Lord Poliakov standing over him. His right arm was submerged in a cauldron, it hurt like hell. Again he tried to pull it out but the old man held him in a surprisingly strong grip.

"Shh, I know it hurts. Believe me that is a good thing." He said, still holding onto Draco's arm. He stared intently into the cauldron, watching whatever was in there, burning Draco's hand off, for several minutes before he released him. Draco pulled his had free and looked at it, as soon as it was out of the cauldron, the pain vanished. His hand was covered with gold. The metal covered his fingertips and wound its way in a spider web pattern across his skin right up to the middle of his forearm. His skin beneath the metal was darker, it had a bluish tint. It felt cold and clammy to the touch but it was still numb, now that the pain was gone he couldn't feel it at all.

"What did you do to me?" Draco asked.

"Robert explained to you what happened to your hand?" said Poliakov.

"Yes," Draco swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, "he said it was dead."

"Yes, and it is. This will allow you to use it however."

"How?"

"The metal is bonded to your skin, it will take the place of your nerves and muscles, allowing you to feel and use your hand." Draco looked at his hand. He still couldn't move it, or feel it.

"But…I can't move my fingers. It doesn't work."

"I haven't activated it yet. It is better if you are awake when I do." Poliakov reached over and touched his hand. There was the briefest of flashes as a spark jumped from his fingers to touch the metal. Draco's hand came alive, he could feel it again. But it felt strange, like it was asleep. He touched it, but could barely feel the contact. He tried to move his fingers. At first they wouldn't budge, he tried as hard as he could and eventually he could get them to flinch, just the merest twitch. "Very good." Poliakov seemed genuinely pleased.

"Good?" said Draco in disbelief, "I can barely move it. It feels weird."

"Of course it does, it will take time for the metal to learn to take the place of your old nerves. Have patience, it will get better."

"How long will I be like this?"

"It is hard to say, it all depends on you I'm afraid." Draco tried to move his fingers again, it didn't seem to be getting any easier. He grimaced and turned his hand around, examining how the metal was wound around his fingers. Then he noticed the scar! It started just beside his thumb and stretched across the back of his hand. The metal seemed to avoid it, framing it perfectly on his skin. He had seen that scar before.

"Ah yes" said Poliakov, "the scar. Curious that. It would appear that the killing curse leaves a mark on those it fails to destroy. It is strange that we never realised it before but then testing it would have been a messy prospect."

The tone of Poliakov's voice was light, suggesting that he was joking but Draco was in no mood to laugh. In fact he was nearly ready to cry, "Why…" he began, but his voice failed him.

Poliakov put his hand on his shoulder, "I know this is hard Draco. It is more of a burden than anyone should have to bear. But you are not alone. You are part of the Circle and we are with you. More importantly, Robert will be with you, he has vowed to be with you till the end."

"The end. But it's not his end, its my end."

"Maybe," Lord Poliakov shrugged, "I don't know what will happen. But I can tell you this." He sat on the bed beside Draco. "I am an old man. I have been doing…well doing this for a long time. I think I have learned to get the measure of a person when I look them in the eye. And I can see that you are strong Draco, even if you can't. You have the strength to get through this, and you have us, The Circle and most importantly, you have Robert."

"Etean?"

"Yes, Etean. In all my years I have seen many truly exceptional wizards come and go. But not one of them was ever even close to Robert Etean. He is the best The Circle has ever seen, maybe the best it will ever see. If he says he can get you through this, then he can do it or no one can. Trust me on this. Trust in _him_ Draco."

Draco didn't answer, he just sat there staring at his hand. In the end, Poliakov stood up and left Draco alone. Draco just sat there, lost in thought. He wasn't alone for long however before Etean came back in, carrying a large pile of books. Draco stood as he dropped them onto the bed.

"What are all those for?"

"Hogwarts," Etean adjusted his robes, "These are your…correction, our books for next year." Draco walked over and looked at the scattered volumes. There seemed to be two of everything. A question occurred to him.

"Hang on," he said, "You're going to be in sixth year?"

"You didn't expect me to join first year did you?"

"Well no but…you're older than me, you should be in seventh year at least." Etean frowned.

"Actually I should have graduated last year. Dumbledore almost didn't let me enrol," he smiled, "But I have _convinced_ him that, seeing as how I was home schooled all my life, I lack any proper academic qualifications. He has agreed for me to join the N.E.W.T. programme from the start – sixth year."

Draco looked at the books again, he noticed how many of them there were, "How many N.E.W.T.s are you planning on taking?" he asked.

"I don't know," Etean frowned at the books, "I just got two of every book on the list Dumbledore gave me. How many do people normally take?"

"Well, it varies. Most only do a couple. Some do lots, but only if they are after some top job or something."

Etean ran his fingers through his hair, "How many are you taking?"

"I…" Draco paused as it occurred to him that he had no idea how many he was going to take. It was one of those decisions he was planning on making over the summer but he hadn't even given it a second's thought. "I don't know. I'll do Potions anyway, probably Charms too, and Transfiguration. Maybe Defence Against the Dark Arts..."

Etean seemed pensive, he interrupted him, "That might come in handy, but I don't remember seeing any Defence class on the list."

"What?" Draco exclaimed, "It has to be!"

Etean dug around in his pocket and produced a piece of parchment. "See for yourself," He handed it to Draco.

Draco read it and then re-read it. There was no mention of Defence Against the Dark Arts at all.

"What is Dumbledore playing at? He has to run Defence, especially now."

"I'm not sure, but it isn't there. He must have his reasons I suppose. It doesn't matter really."

"Doesn't matter? Are you mad? It's the whole point of my going there at all remember?"

"I know why you're going there Draco," Etean's tone oozed calm. Draco found his breath slowing despite himself. "What you need to learn won't be taught in any class Hogwarts is running. I am going to teach you, quietly, in secret."

"How do you plan on doing that? It's not exactly easy to keep a secret in that place you know."

"Relax," Etean laughed, "Secrets are my job, remember?"

"Oh, that makes me feel much better."

"I thought it would. Now we'd better get ready. I've had some people go to your house and collect your things. They're in the other room. You want to go through them and see if there is anything else you need me to get for you before we leave."

"OK oh," Draco sighed, "I need a new wand…I lost mine in the woods the other night."

"Oh, shit yeah," Etean dug again inside his robes and produced Draco's wand, "I found this before I found you." He held it out to Draco, "In all the confusion, I forgot I still had it." Draco raised his hand, his right hand to take it. Etean's expression changed to one of pity as after an awkward moment, Draco took it with his left hand. "How is it?"

"I can barely even feel it," Draco smiled weakly, "Look's like I'll be left handed from here on in. Still I suppose it's no worse than I deserve."

"How do you figure that?"

"I shouldn't have left the room, it was stupid of me. I just…"

Etean stopped him, "It doesn't matter, what's done is done and we can't change it. There's no point shooting blame around or feeling sorry for ourselves. You'll get used to the hand. But in the meantime…learn to use the other one yeah?"

"I don't have a choice do I?"

"No, I guess you don't." They didn't speak about the hand again for the rest of the morning, neither wanted to. They went through all of Draco's school things and made a list of what needed to be bought. In the afternoon, Etean left Draco with Poliakov, working on his hand and collected everything they needed. When it was all packed, Draco went to bed but he couldn't sleep. He was going back to Hogwarts in the morning, probably for the last time. He found himself actually afraid of getting on the train. That had always been the start of the Hogwarts year for him, now it would be the beginning of the end.


	13. The Hogwarts Express

            The Hogwarts Express puffed and chugged out of Kings Cross station and on through London.  The muggles failed to notice the bright red steam engine as it passed over bridges and level crossings on its way out of the city.  Draco returned the favour.  He didn't as much as look out of the windows as he strolled up the corridor to the lead carriage and the Prefects meeting.  He reached the door into the carriage and swore as, out of pure habit, he reached for the handle with his right hand.  Even after hours of work trying to get it to respond, it was still as fuzzy as when it had first been 'treated'.  He had thought of nothing except his hand, the metal web that now covered it and the scar that the web so conveniently failed to hide all morning.  It was bound to raise questions, to which he would have no answer.  In the end he had settled the problem, he had dug out a pair of leather gloves and put them on, vowing not to remove them – ever.  Etean had simply shrugged, it was up to him he had said.

            He opened the door with his left hand and entered the carriage.  Everyone looked up at him as he entered.  'Great, I'm fucking late on top of everything else,' he berated himself.

            "Nice of you to join us Malfoy," said William Anderson, seventh year Slytherin prefect and now, based on the pin, Head Boy.  'Excellent, this is getting better by the minute.'

            "Shut it Anderson, I'm here aren't I?"  Draco and William had never gotten on.  There was no real reason for it, some people just got on each others nerves.  Scowling, Draco sat down in the only vacant seat and picked up the only folder that remained on the table.  It contained all the things he was supposed to know as sixth year Prefect, his duties and his responsibilities.  He ignored the sound of Anderson's voice as he continued to lecture everyone about upholding the school rules; he did notice that it was almost word for word the same lecture that Ross Burns, the previous Head Boy had given at the start of last year.  Trying to hide the difficulty with his hand, he opened the folder and thumbed through the parchment until he found the only thing he was interested in, his timetable.  Prefects had to take turns patrolling the school at night.  'Let's see, I've got Monday and Thursday with…'  Oh no, not that.  Automatically, his eyes rose and looked at her sitting across from him, apparently fully engrossed in Williams rambling dross.  Oh well, patrolling wasn't exactly a contact sport, they would wander around alone, and report to each other at regular intervals – it shouldn't be too tough.  His thoughts derailed as something William had said jogged him back to reality, everyone was looking at him.

            "Well?" Anderson asked.

            "Well what?"

            "I was asking whether or not you would be able to cope with being a normal prefect again Malfoy?"

            "What the hell are you on about Anderson?"

            "Haven't you been listening Malfoy, I said that I received a personal letter from the Headmaster confirming that the Inquisitional Squad has been disbanded and that all it's members returned to their previous level of authority.  He told me he had informed all of the members in their letters, so, do you have a problem with that?"  The Inquisitional Squad?  Draco had completely forgotten about that.  He glanced at Pansy Parkinson beside him, she looked sheepish, embarrassed.  Apparently the prospect of being a normal Prefect again bothered her.  But what the hell did it matter?  He had enough to worry about.  He didn't give a damn about the fucking Inquisitional Squad.

            "No problems here."

            "Fine, then lose the badge."  'Badge?  What badge?'  He looked down at his robes to see the shiny metal 'I' that the squad members had worn.  'Shit, what the hell is that doing there?'  He pulled it off and stuffed it into his pocket.

            "Better.  Now if everyone would pay attention, I was saying…"  Draco tuned him out again.  Everyone else returned their attention to William, except for one.  Draco looked over to see Ron Weasley staring daggers at him.  His anger was clearly visible in his eyes, his face was glowing bright red and getting redder.  Ordinarily he would have returned the glare, try to stare him down and then take the first opportunity to insult him later, but not now.  He knew why Weasley was staring at him with murder in his eyes and, he had to admit, he couldn't blame him.  He wanted to explain, to tell him that he hated Lucius too, that he was sorry about Percy, but he knew that he wouldn't listen if he tried.  Weasley hated him, but that wasn't new.  He had hated him since they had met but now it was different, a pure loathing and nothing Draco could do would change it.  Nothing he could say would bring Percy back and no story about how sorry he felt was going to make any difference either.  Not wanting to look at him any more, Draco put his head down, leaning on his left hand.  As he did, he put his right hand on the table without thinking.  Pansy sat forward and put her hand on top of his, he had his eyes closed and barely even noticed the pressure of her touch.  They remained like that for the rest of the meeting, only when William wrapped it up did he notice her hand.  He pulled free out of reflex, Pansy looked surprised at him.

            Everyone stood up to leave.  Draco turned to follow but Pansy pulled him back.  He rounded on her.

            "What?" he growled.  She jumped slightly at his tone.  She watched the others leave, waiting until they were alone before she answered.

            "Nothing, I just wanted to say hello.  What's gotten into you?"

            "Nothing I'm fine, hello.  Are you happy now?"  He turned to leave but she called him back.  "What?" he said again, his tone more severe than before.

            "Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" She walked up and pressed herself into him, "I thought we could…catch up." Her voice changed to a sleazy purr.  She started to run her fingers across his chest.  Draco wanted to slap her.  It wasn't as if they hadn't…'caught up' before, but now the thought of a sweaty encounter with her turned his stomach.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Taking that as an invitation, she leaned in and started kissing his neck, tracing a slow line towards his left ear.  She started to gently nibble his earlobe.  Her hand moved down and took hold of his wrist and slowly brought it up to her breast.

            "What's with the gloves Draco?" she purred in his ear as she started to playfully tug at the glove on his hand. "Have you developed a thing for leather?"  That was it, he snapped.  He stepped back, shoving her away at the same time.  "What the hell is wrong with you Malfoy?" she yelled as she hit the table hard.

            "Nothing, just leave it will you.  I…I'm not in the mood."  He turned for the door.

            "Not in the mood?  What do you mean not in the mood?"  But he was gone.  She ran to the door and called out after him but he didn't answer.  She watched as he stalked off down the train.

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            Etean looked up as the door of the carriage opened.  He knew it wasn't Draco.  He could sense him still at the far end of the train, hating every minute of the Prefects meeting.  The pretty red haired girl looked strangely familiar but he couldn't place her.

            "Do you mind if we sit in here?  Everywhere else is full."  Ginny asked sheepishly, sticking her head round the door.

"No, by all means." Etean stood and gestured to the empty chair opposite.  He remained standing as Ginny had entered and sat down.  As he returned to his seat, the door slammed open again and Harry entered.  Etean recognised Harry Potter instantly, who didn't?  But he kept it from his face as he stood again and helped him wrestle the seemingly endless pile of luggage which he was carrying onto the racks.  When they had finally got it all stowed, they both sat down again.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his glasses up onto his nose.

"Don't mention it."  Harry looked puzzled.

"Excuse me for asking but, are you new to Hogwarts?"  Etean chuckled.

"What makes you say that?" he said sarcastically.  Harry grinned.

"Oh nothing much, just the fact that I have never seen you before and now you are on the train, wearing school robes with no house patch."

"Ah, I see, you are quite the detective it seems.  Allow me to introduce myself, I am Robert Etean."  He extended his hand to Harry, Ginny gasped and blushed red as she heard the name.  Harry didn't seem to get it, he looked at her, puzzled for a moment before he remembered to shake Etean's hand.

"My name's Harry Potter.  This is Ginny," he gestured to Ginny who blushed even redder.  Etean smiled and extended his hand, it was always funny when girls reacted to him like this.  It had been a while, he decided to have some fun.

"Charmed," he said in the slick, posh tone he normally reserved for banquets and social occasions where it was expected of him.  He extended his hand to Ginny, as she took it he lowered his head and kissed her hand lightly.  He lifted his head again to see her face positively on fire.  She turned away from him, hiding her face in her hands.  Etean smiled again.  Harry looked dumbfounded.

"Em, I hope I'm not being rude but, have I missed something here?"

"No not at all."  Etean allowed his grin to remain fixed on his face as he sat back.  Ginny had gotten the blush under control but she was still avoiding his eyes.  Etean laughed to himself, they really were funny when they reacted like this.  He turned to look out of the window but Harry spoke again.

"So, are you transferring to Hogwarts then?"

            "Yes, I'll be joining sixth year."

            "Cool, that's our year."  Etean turned to Ginny.

            "Both of you?" he raised an eyebrow as he asked the question, she blushed again and shook her head.

            "No, I'm in fifth year."

            "I meant you'll be in the same year as me, Ron and Hermione." Harry put in.

            "Ah, I see."

            "So, where did you used to go to school?"

            "Nowhere really, I was educated privately."  Harry looked surprised.

            "Privately?  As in by tutors and things?  That must have been expensive."  Etean shrugged.

            "I suppose it was, I never really thought about it."

            "So, why are you going to Hogwarts now then?"

            "Is he always this inquisitive?"  Etean asked Ginny.  She blushed yet again as he addressed her.

            "Yes, he is always asking questions, about everything."

            "I am not."  Harry tried to sound genuinely hurt.  Etean raised a hand to cut off whatever response Ginny was about to give.

            "It's OK, I was only joking.  The truth is I chose to come here because I wanted to.  I wanted a decent, recognised education.  Back home, my teachers were all employees of my father.  Their continued employ was contingent on my results.  So they were always too afraid to give me anything but top marks.  I got bored with them perpetually telling me that I was right, even if I _knew_ I was wrong."  Etean shrugged.

            "So let me get this straight, you are going to Hogwarts because your old school was too soft on you?"

            "Yes, that's about the size of it."

            "Weird…em sorry."  Etean laughed.

            "Don't worry about it, I know I'm weird."  Harry opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the door of the carriage opening.

            "I swear, if he tries anything, anything at all this term…" Ron bustled into the carriage waving his wand around wildly, followed closely by Hermione.

            "You'll what Ron?" She cut him off.  "You'll only get into trouble.  He's not worth it.  Now put that away before you hurt someone." Her tone sounded exactly like a mother scolding her child.  Ron bristled as he turned round.

            "Malfoy is the only one I want to hurt.  That horrible little bastard, I hate him."  Hermione sighed, only then did she notice Etean.

            "Oh, hello.  I didn't see you there.  You new to Hogwarts?  I'm Hermione." She extended her hand.  Etean looked at it for a moment then forced himself to shake it.  Inside he winced, his expression became the mask he used all too often to hide what he really felt.  As it came up he retreated into himself.  Years of polite society training kicked in and his mouth went on auto.

            "Hello, I'm Robert," he said politely, releasing her hand.

            "And that's my brother, Ron."  Etean turned to face Ron as Ginny introduced him and shook his hand.

            "Nice to meet you."  'Her brother, Ron – Ginny – red hair – shit!'  He retreated further behind his mask, this going to be an uncomfortable journey.  Ron plonked himself down opposite him, beside the window.  Hermione sat down beside Etean.  Behind the mask, he screamed.  'How did I let myself get here?  Why don't I just invite Menai in here too?  That would make this the perfect travelling group.'  Etean sensed Draco coming.  'Wonderful, this just gets better.'

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            Draco stalked down the corridor towards the carriage where he had left Etean.  He was glad for one thing, Pansy hadn't chased after him.  He doubted if he could have restrained himself from hitting her if she had purred at him like that again.  She disgusted him, in a way she always had.  He had only put up with her because…well, she had her uses.  The fact that she seemed to equate their little encounters as some sort of relationship had always annoyed him.  Still he had kept her in her place, he had made a point of dating other girls and making sure she knew.  All the same, when the others had blown him off, he could always rely on Pansy not to turn him down.  All he had ever had to do was snap his fingers and her legs would open.  In the past that hadn't mattered, why would it?  He got what he wanted, when he wanted and she got her little delusions of…of whatever she wanted to delude herself into.  But this year was going to be different.  This was his last year at Hogwarts, his last year anywhere and he was going to live it as he wanted to.  If that meant that at some point he wanted Pansy, then so be it.  But not now, frankly he felt dirty after she touched him.

            So, what was he going to do this year – apart from die horribly?  He wasn't sure.  He hadn't thought that far ahead but he didn't care.  The thought that no matter what he did, there would be no consequences, or at least none for him, liberated him.  He was free to do whatever the hell he wanted.  He reached out and sensed Etean, he was still sitting exactly where he had been, waiting for him.  He seemed strange, closed off.  Maybe he was busy scheming over some new twist of events.  Draco was past caring.  He reached out and opened the door of the carriage.

            "What the hell do you want Malfoy?" Ron bellowed as he jumped to his feet.  'No, please no, not him.  Why did it have to be him?'  He looked around the carriage and saw Etean, his expression was blank.  'Oh well, why not?'  He walked into the carriage and went to sit down between Etean and Hermione.

            "To sit down Weasley.  That is what people normally do on trains you know." He bit back a more cutting response.  Ron pushed forward, almost touching him with the tip of his wand.

            "Not in here your not, this is _our_ carriage."

            "I don't see your name on it."  'I don't see your name on anything – shut it Malfoy, this is not the way to handle this.'

            "Oh really well do you see this?" he didn't need heightened senses to see Weasley prepare to hex him.  Draco fumbled for his wand with his near useless right hand.  'Shit.'  Etean grabbed him by the wrist, conveniently hiding the fact that Draco couldn't use it.

            "Sit down."  He said quietly.  Only Draco heard the 'NOW!!' he added in his head.  He sat down.  Etean turned his head to Ron.  Ron moved his wand so that the tip of it was almost in Etean's face.  Etean froze, he just stared at Ron with no expression on his face.  "There's no need for that."

            "What's it to you?"  Again Etean didn't move.  Hermione stood up and shoved Ron back.

            "Ron, this isn't the place or the time for this.  Now, like it or not we are stuck in here – all of us.  The rest of the train is full so we are just going to have to put up with each other."  Ron moved to come forward again, Ginny jumped up and grabbed the back of his neck.

            "Sit down Ron, please.  Don't do this now, not here."  She looked as if she was close to tears, all the playfulness was gone from her voice.  Ron looked at his sister, the pain in her eyes disarmed him.  He sat down.  But not before he got in one last dig.

            "You just wait Malfoy, you'll get yours."  'SHUT UP!'  The command from Etean exploded in Draco's head and he remained silent.  The rest of the journey was as Etean had predicted, uncomfortable.  The weather grew darker and darker until they were under a full scale thunder storm.  Nobody said a word as they continued north.  They remained silent even when they were pulling into Hogsmeade Station.  They got their things and left the carriage in silence.  Once outside they went their separate ways, joining different ends of the queue for the carriages to take them to Hogwarts.


	14. The Opening Feast

            Everyone dashed for the carriages, it was like a stampede of teenagers.  Despite the fact that the train had been packed, there seemed to be more carriages than were necessary Draco and Etean managed to get a carriage to themselves.  It was still raining hard, so by the time they did, they were soaked.  Well their cloaks were, inside them they remained completely dry.  They got in and shook off the heaviest of the water as they pulled off.  Draco was glad that they were alone, he had been wanting to talk to Etean in private all day.

            "Em, Etean, can I ask you something?"  Etean looked at him and raised an eyebrow, apparently curious.

            "Go on then."

            "Well I was just curious…and tell me to mind my own business if this is too personal or something…its just it's been bugging me for the last two days and…"

            "Spit it out Malfoy."  Draco took a deep breath, 'Here goes'.

            "Well I…you know I overheard your argument with Menai the other night?"

            "Yes, we already discussed that."

            "Yeah, but I was wondering what it was all about…between you and Menai?"

            "The argument was about you Draco, you know that."

            "That's not what I meant and you know it, there was something deeper going on between the two of you."

            "We have already covered that, he hates me and I despise him, it's that simple."

            "Nothing with you is that simple.  Poliakov said that it was to do with your father?"  Etean's expression darkened, Draco instantly regretted pursuing this conversation as a jolt of fear ran down his spine.  It was a long time before Etean answered.  When he did, his voice was quieter than Draco ever remembered hearing it.

            "Yes, it started between him and my father.  They fell out…over my mother."

            "Oh…" something in his tone told Draco he shouldn't push for details about Etean's mother, still he was curious, "But what does that have to do with you?"

            "Because I want it to…" Etean's voice rose, he was nearly shouting now, Draco cringed, Etean got himself under control before he continued, "Look Draco, some things are just too important to let go.  Menai deserves my hatred in more ways than I will _ever_ explain to you.  So let's just leave it at that shall we?"

            "Fine," Draco's voice was almost a whisper, he made a silent vow never to push Etean on a personal matter again, "consider it left."

            The rain hadn't abated as they reached the school.  The crowd of students bustled together in a mad rush to get inside out of the storm.  Draco and Etean found themselves at the rear of the bunch.  Getting wetter and wetter by the minute they inched their way forward until at last they reached shelter of the Entrance Hall.  Etean took off his cloak and looked around.  Hogwarts was bigger than he had expected, but other than that the place held no obvious surprises.  His gaze travelled around the Entrance Hall until he saw an elderly witch waving at him.  He nudged Draco.

            "Who is that?"  Draco looked up from shaking himself off and glanced across the room.

            "That's McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher," he looked again, "is she calling you?"

            "Yes, it seems so."  Etean looked confused.  Draco thought for a second, then he understood.

            "I know, she wants you to go with her," he smiled at the thought that occurred to him next, "she takes all the first years into the Great Hall.  You have to go with them to be sorted."

            "Sorted?"

            "Yes, into your house, you know…"  Etean cut him off.

            "I know, I know, I just forgot is all."  Shaking his head, Etean moved off through the crowd.  Draco watched as McGonagall led him away out of sight before heading into the Great Hall.  He was curious to see what kind of reaction the arrival of the famous Robert Etean would get from the student body.

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Etean followed McGonagall into a small room adjacent to the Great Hall.  It was already full of kids – first years.  Etean was sure he looked ridiculous towering above them.  Many of them seemed terrified, they scuttled out of his way as he entered the room.  McGonagall turned to say something to him but her attention was drawn by a voice from the door behind Etean.  He turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing there, calling for Professor McGonagall to join him.  They spoke briefly before he turned and left.  McGonagall busied herself making sure everyone in the group was behaving themselves and that they were ready to enter the hall in some sort of order.  Etean was bustled to the back of the line.  McGonagall explained that he would be sorted last, after all the first years.

            "Right then," she said in a throat twisting Scottish twang, "follow me, quietly if you can."  The line of little first years moved off in her wake, Etean trailed after them.  As the entered the hall, he saw the four long house tables packed with students.  The ceiling above him showed the night sky, still pouring with rain.  He heard the hushed whispers as they saw him.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw some of them lean over and whisper to each other.  He fought to stop himself from scowling.  He hated being on display like this.  The noise continued to rise until McGonagall stepped up to the front of the hall beside a three legged stool on which sat an old hat.  Etean looked at it, puzzled.  He stretched his senses out to Draco and lifted the explanation from his mind.  'Damn, it's still too easy.  He has to learn to shut himself off.'  Professor McGonagall unrolled a large scroll and started calling names.  One by one the first year students walked up to the stool, McGonagall placed the hat on their head and, after a brief pause, it shouted out the name of their house.  Etean watched, the whole thing seemed surreal, was this really the most respected wizarding school in the world?

            On and on they went, name after name.  First years stepped up terrified and ran down relieved to one of the long house tables.  Then, Etean was alone.  McGonagall read out the name of the last student – Alice Wallace who became a Hufflepuff, and was silent.  She turned to the staff table behind her as Professor Dumbledore stood up.

            "Thank you Professor McGonagall, thank you.  And welcome to our new bunch of first years.  A small bit of business still remains before we can begin our feast.  We have one other student to be sorted.  It is a most unusual thing for a student to join Hogwarts in anything other than first year and, as such I feel that I should introduce him personally.  Would Robert Etean step forward to be sorted?"  At the sound of his name, the whole room exploded with noise.  Girls giggled, boys stared, Etean heard more than a few shouts of 'I told you so' before Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands and the quiet returned.  He looked at Etean and gestured him forward to the chair.  Etean stepped up, sat down and put the hat on.

            "Now then," the voice in his ear said, it sounded old, "What have we here?...My word, I don't often see such a disciplined mind.  Are you sure you're a student?"

"What do you mean?" Etean whispered, "Of course I'm a student."

"Oh well if you say so…Wait a minute, this mind is familiar…I have seen you before."

"What are you talking about?  Of course you haven't.  I have never even been here before."

"Strange that, you are familiar.  Maybe one of your ancestors came here…yes?  That could explain it."  Etean was annoyed now.  What was this thing going on about?  None of the Eteans had ever come to Hogwarts.

"Whatever, now are you going to sort me or not?" 

"What?...Oh yes, of course. Well now, let me see.  Cunning, intelligent, wilful and with not a small touch of ambition.  You must be…SLYTHERIN!"  It bellowed the last part and the Slytherin table exploded with cheers.  Etean stood up, removed the hat and headed down to the table where Draco, he saw, was making a space for him by ordering Crabbe and Goyle to bunch up.  It took him a while to get there, every single student he passed seemed to want to shake his hand and greet him.  'Great more sycophantic idiots.'  Eventually he sat down.  Dumbledore called them to order again.

"Yes, yes welcome, welcome Mr. Etean.  Now if I could have your attention for just a moment longer.  There are a few important announcements that I must make before we are all too stuffed to care about anything other than sleep.

"No doubt most of you have noticed, there was no provision on your book lists for a Defence Against the Dark Arts text.  This was not an oversight."  He paused as every ear in the room turned its attention to him, "Now, as most of you are aware, Professor Umbridge left us at the end of last year.  We were once again without a staff member to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and, in current climate of hostility, it has been impossible to locate a replacement that is both suitable and without a great many far more important duties to attend to.  We have therefore been forced to adjust our curriculum somewhat."  At this yet another burst of whispers broke out in the room.  Dumbledore waved his hands for quiet.

"That does not mean, as some of you have no doubt speculated that the Defence course has been dropped.  Merely that it shall take a slightly different form this year.  Owing to the dangerous nature of the current state of affairs outside Hogwarts, the staff and I have decided that a more practical approach to Defence Against the Dark Arts is needed.  Therefore, in place of your regular lessons, we will be holding a series of classes designed to instruct you on the active nature of Defence, that is to say, duelling.  The staff, including myself will alternate our lessons, allowing for our other duties.  These shall be supplemented by the instigation, or rather re-instigation of the after hours duelling society that has in the past enjoyed a fine tradition within the school.

"Well now that seems to be all that I have to say so…"  He waved his hands, the dishes and plates in front of the students filled with food.  "Dig in."  He sat down, the noise of conversation resumed.  Draco turned to Etean.

"That certainly clears up one mystery anyway."

"Yes…duelling society eh?  Sounds…interesting."

"Yes, I wonder if it will be the same as last time."

"Last time?"

"Yeah, they started up the duelling club a few years back.  But it didn't last long though.  It was run by a complete idiot."

"Who?"

"Lockheart was his name."

"Gilderoy Lockheart?"

"Yeah, you heard of him?"

"You could say that.  I met him a few years ago when I was in Bulgaria with my father.  He was a total airhead.  He worked here?"

"Yep, Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"What?  That moron?  He could barely tie his shoe laces without help."  Etean's opinion of the great Hogwarts was falling fast.

"Yeah, well that didn't stop him.  So, do you think this duelling thing will help us?"  Etean paused, 'Careful!' Draco heard the warning tone, even in the thought.

"It seems like as good a way as any to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts.  At least it's practical, not some boring theoretical approach."  Draco was about to say something else but Pansy's voice cut him off.

"Are you good at duelling, my lord?" she said in a tone that just dripped with false interest.  She leaned forward and batted her eyelids at Etean.  Before he could answer, Draco rounded on Pansy.

"What did you call him?"  Pansy turned to him, her expression became sour.

"I addressed him as 'my lord'.  That is the polite way to address someone of his stature.  And I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt, it is very rude."  Draco's face flushed with anger, he opened his mouth to respond but it was Etean's turn to interrupt.

"As I recall, you were the one who interrupted my dear," his tone became the practiced, polished air of breeding, "But think no more of it.  By the way, on the subject of manners, I had thought that it was customary to introduce oneself before joining in on a conversation."  Pansy blushed as she drew back in a fair impression of genuine embarrassment.

"Do forgive me my lord, I was not thinking.  Pansy Parkinson at your service."  She extended her hand, Etean kissed it, Draco grimaced.

"Delighted to meet you, but you can drop the 'my lord' bit, call me Etean.  I prefer that."

"Of course, my…I mean Etean."

"That's better, now to answer your question, I have had only a little of what you might call formal training in the art of duelling.  I have a fair grounding in the basics and I have it from my teachers that I possess excellent reflexes.  I doubt I will have much trouble keeping up with the world famous students of Hogwarts."

"Oh, I'm sure you will, I have no doubts…"  Draco tuned the rest of the conversation out.  Pansy, Millicent and the rest of the Slytherin bunch carried on talking to Etean.  A couple of times they tried to drag him into the conversation but he just grunted or ignored them entirely.  He spent the rest of the meal growing more and more annoyed with the sudden change in Etean's behaviour.  He was acting like the perfect pureblood toff, smarmy and slick from a life of social climbing.  Was this even the same person who had damn near killed him a hundred times over the summer?  The way they were acting nauseated him.  His mind stared to wander, his eyes traversed the Great Hall, looking at the staff, the banners, the roof, and finally settling on the Gryffindor table.  Thankfully, both of the Weasley's had their backs to him so they didn't see them looking.  Potter was engrossed in conversation with Neville Longbottom, probably talking about something ludicrously unintelligent, and beside them…Hermione.  She was looking right at him with a sort of distant expression on her face.  His mind split in two directions, two thoughts battling to control his actions.  One part wanted desperately to look away, to break the stare.  The other part wanted to focus on her, to lose himself in her eyes and never come back.

He was still lost in the indecision when she shook her head, apparently she had just been daydreaming.  Now she noticed him staring at her, but she didn't look away.  Instead, she frowned, seemingly puzzled.  Was the same argument going on inside her head?  He extended his senses, trying to find her, to see what she was feeling but he couldn't.  It was like opening the door on a riot of noise.  Hundreds of feelings and thoughts bombarded him at once and he was instantly lost in the chaos.  He shut his eyes and shook his head, grinding his teeth as the pain in his head mounted.  He lowered his head and took a slow, deep breath.  When he had regained his composure, he looked up at her again, but she had turned away, she was now fully engrossed in whatever conversation her friends were having.  Sighing inwardly he turned his attention back to Etean and the self centred hippogriff shit he was doling out to the waiting Slytherins

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            Hermione growled under her breath in agitation.  Harry was now lost in conversation about duelling.  Neville, Ron and even Ginny were all rapt with attention as he explained again about how duelling was all about nerve.  It was true enough, there was no argument there, but Harry never seemed to stop prattling on about it these days.  It seems the job of teaching their little Dumbledore's Army gang last year had finally gone to his head.  She preferred it to when he was talking about Quidditch morning noon and night, at least this was a topic she could follow.  It was just that nowadays he sounded more and more like a drill sergeant barking orders at her than her friend.  He had changed, she knew something in him was gone forever.  Losing Sirius in the ministry last year had changed him, now he was more reserved, more closed off and that bothered her.  She was worried about him.  She was worried about Ron and Ginny too.  Their pain was nearer, it hadn't even been a week since Percy was murdered.  She had been amazed when they had said they were going back to school with the rest of them.  She guessed that they just wanted to be away from their parents and she could see where they were coming from.  Mrs. Weasley had gone to pieces, and Mr. Weasley blamed himself, neither could bring themselves to even mention Percy.  The tension in their house was so high that you could cut it with a spoon, let alone a knife.

            So here they were, both of them torn apart inside.  Ginny was trying hard to hide the pain, she went from extremes of false giddiness to absolute despair.  Ron couldn't even remotely hide his, it just sat there below the surface waiting to strike. And strike it did, his temper snapped at the least little thing, he had bitten her head off more than once, Harry's too.  She knew it was just the grief causing it, but it was still hard for her.  She was desperate to help her friends but she couldn't.  Harry wouldn't let her in and she didn't know how to help Ron or Ginny, there was nothing she could do.  She felt bad for them, but she was also…lonely.

            'Whoa, where did that come from?' she asked herself.  How could she be lonely, here she was surrounded by her friends.  But was she?  They weren't really here, they were all hiding behind their walls, walls she couldn't get past.  She was alone. 

'Come on snap out of it Hermione.  You can't think like that.  They are your friends and they need you.  They just need time is all, give them time, be there for them when they need you.'

            'So what about what you need?' the selfish voice in her head asked.

            'Go away you.  They need me more than I need to be thinking of myself right now.'  Suddenly she realised she was talking to herself.  She shook her head and came to her senses.  She looked about her, hoping that no one had noticed her zoning out and then she saw him.  Malfoy was sitting at the opposite side of the room, ignoring the animated conversation around him, staring right at her.  She found herself staring back at him.  His expression was strange, he almost seemed sad.  She frowned.  'What is going on with him?'  She still remembered their conversation from The Leaky Cauldron.  He had been acting strange then too.

            He closed his eyes and shook his head.  She thought she saw him smirk as he lowered his head.  'What is he playing at?'  She wasn't in the mood for Malfoy and his weird games.  Sighing, she turned back to Harry and his talk about duelling.  He had gotten to the part about reflexes now.  She tuned out straight away, she almost knew this word for word by now.  Still she tried to look really interested, but her mind was still fixated on Malfoy.  She looked over again, she couldn't help it, there he was laughing at some joke or other that the new boy, Robert Etean had made.  She looked back to Harry.

            "You need to be quicker than the other person, get in there first and see to it he doesn't get the chance to hit you…"  Word for word, she followed him in her mind.

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            The feast ended, they all trudged to their dormitories.  But, for the more senior Slytherins anyway, there was no notion of going to bed.  First the junior students were banished to bed, with warnings of severe hexes if they showed themselves or reported anything that they overheard.  Then out came the wine and the party started.  It was the same ritual year in, year out.  Draco had enjoyed it before, but not now.  This year he was absolutely disgusted by the way the Slytherins fawned and cooed over Etean.  He wasn't surprised at them though, that was the way they always acted, the way he would have acted any other year.  What really surprised and annoyed him was the way Etean lapped it up, he seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.  He laughed, joked and drank just like he was having the time of his life.  It was past midnight when they started to settle down.  One by one, (or two by two in some cases) they all vanished into the sleeping quarters.  Finally it was just Draco, Etean and Pansy.  She was well and truly drunk, sitting perched on Etean's lap and was literally all over him, she only ever come up for air (and more wine).  For his part he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.  His face, when Draco could see it, was plastered in a wide drunken grin.  His speech became slurred and barely intelligible.  Pansy lowered her head and whispered some wicked suggestion in his ear.  Etean looked at Draco as she did, and rolled his eyes.

She pulled her head back, waiting for his answer.  His grin didn't change as he brought his hand up and touched her eyes.  Her head fell forward onto his shoulder, fast asleep.  Etean stood, lifting her up as he did.  He turned and dumped her quite unceremoniously into the chair.  He reached out and picked up the bottle of wine from the table and strolled quite steadily over to the fireplace.

"That one can't handle her alcohol."  His voice had lost its drunken slur.  In fact, in the last few seconds, he had changed so completely that Draco doubted he had actually been drinking all night.  He turned round to face Draco.  "Come on then, out with it."

"Out with what?"

"With whatever it is that had had you looking like a trolls armpit all night."  Draco stood up, angry now.

"OK then, what the hell were you playing at?  Acting like some posh git."  Etean smiled.

"But I am a posh git Draco," he gestured to Pansy's sleeping form, "That's what they think anyway.  That's what they were expecting me to be, so that's what I was.  It is always easier to play to peoples expectations.  They don't bother to really get to know you then, they are happy with their assumptions."

"So it was all an act?  A game?"

"Yes, I was playing the good Slytherin.  It will make our lives easier if you at least try to do the same.  You can do that can't you?  It was what you did every year here wasn't it."

"Every other year I was here, I didn't have to prepare for a fight to the death, did I?"

"Oh will you stop being so melodramatic, there will be plenty of time to get depressed later."  Draco sighed and sat back down.  He looked at Pansy and scowled.

"Did you have to act like…that, with her?"  Etean smirked.

"I didn't see the harm in it.  Why?  You want her?"

"Her?  No.  But I hope you do."

"Why?"

"Because, now she won't leave you alone all year," he sighed again and looked back to Etean, "So do you?  Want her I mean?"  Etean looked down at her, he cocked his head to the side, thinking.  Then he sighed.

"No, as it happens I don't think I do."

"Bad for you so.  I'm warning you Etean, she could give an anaconda a lesson in being clingy."  Etean shrugged.

"Oh well, I can deal with her later.  Now we both should get some rest, believe me _you_ will need it."  He headed toward the stairs to the bedrooms.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see," he yawned, "later."

They both disappeared up the stairs.  Pansy snored in the chair.


	15. The First Day of Term

            Darkness prevailed in the sixth year dorm.  Outside the rain had finally stopped, it no longer pounded the windows, but no one would have noticed.  Behind the curtains of their four poster beds, Crabbe and Goyle snored, a sound that could truly wake the dead.  But after five years, Draco was more than used to it, now he could sleep through it as though it weren't even there.  He was lost in a deep, peaceful sleep when he felt the sudden cold as the blankets were pulled off him.  He opened his eyes and looked for the culprit but he saw no one.  He sat up and was about to say something into the darkness when a hand clamped over his mouth.  A hand covered in cloth by the feel of it.  Relaxing, he extended his senses until he could make out the faint shimmering shape of Etean standing over him.  Etean released him and straightened up.  Draco was suddenly blind as his cloak hit him in the face.  He pulled it free and turned to see Etean head out of the door without a sound.  As quickly as he could he dressed himself and pulled on his cloak.  He paused to make himself invisible before he left the room and followed.

            There was hardly any light in the common room when he reached it.  The fire had died hours ago.  Now there was only the light of the few candles that had yet to burn out to guide him.  He was not surprised to see Pansy still snoring where they had left her in the chair, even given the uncomfortable position she was lying in, she was too drunk to wake.  He looked around for Etean but saw no sign of him.  He left the common room and stood in the corridor, trying to decide which way he had gone.  He didn't have to think long as a movement caught his eye.  He could just about make out the shadowy shape of Etean standing by a door at the end of the corridor.  He turned and walked as quietly as he could over to him.  Etean gestured for him to follow, opened the door and went in, heading deeper into the dungeons.

            Once the door closed behind them, there was no light at all.  Draco had to make way in the dark by following the shimmering form of Etean.  He knew where they were; he had explored this passage before a couple of years ago but he was at a loss as to why they had come down here.  As far as he knew, the only things down here were a load of old storage rooms and disused dungeons.  On and on they went in silence until finally Etean stopped.  He turned and lowered his hood, becoming visible again.  He raised his hand and it started to glow, illuminating them faintly.  Draco looked around him.  They were in one of the dustier sections of the dungeons.  Draco doubted if anyone had been here in a long time.  He still was none the wiser as to what had brought them here.  There was _nothing_ here!  Just a dark, grotty corridor.

            "What are we doing down here?" he asked.

            "Not much," was the response, "you are too tired to accomplish much tonight.  But I thought it was a good idea for you to see the venue for the remainder of your training."

            "Here?"  Etean sighed.

            "You still haven't learned to really look at things before you jump to conclusions have you?" he gestured to the wall, "Take a real look."  Draco looked at the wall, it seemed ordinary enough.

            "Looks normal to me."

            "Really?  Look closer."  Draco concentrated harder, pushing his mind further into the Ether, and he saw it, a strange symbol glowing faintly on the stone.

            "What is that?"

            "Touch the mark."  Draco reached out and touched it.  Then leapt back as the wall split in half, an invisible join opened up, peeling back to reveal a door.  Etean moved forward and pushed the door open.  They went through.  The room beyond lit up as they entered, it was identical to the training chambers from the academy.  Draco was astounded, it was exactly the same in every detail.  In fact if he didn't know it was impossible, he would have sworn…

            "Are we…?"

            "No, we are still in Hogwarts."

            "But…?"

            "I told you that the founders of Hogwarts were assisted by The Circle.  For a great many years we maintained a permanent clandestine presence here that required a place to train in secret."  He gestured to the room.

            "But how did no one ever find this place?"

            "Simple, it isn't always here."  Draco looked puzzled, Etean laughed.  "This place is like the corridor in the museum.  Both here and not here at the same time.  Only members of The Circle can find it and enter it."

            "Oh…how many places like this are there?"

            "If you understood how they work more correctly, you would know there is no answer to that question.  These places either exist or they don't depending on whether we need them or not."  Draco shook his head and sighed, it was too early in the morning for this.

            "Yep, that makes about as much sense as you normally do Etean."

            "Hey, at least I'm predictably unpredictable," he smiled and walked over to one of the pillars.  Behind them, the door closed silently.  Draco shook his head again and turned to watch Etean.  He started praying that this wouldn't be the start of another round of what he had gone through with the eye.  Etean reached the pillar and touched the stone.  To Draco's relief, instead of the eye, a large hourglass appeared attached to the wall.  Etean turned it over, Draco felt the world shift.  It felt the same as when he slowed a spell.  He watched as the sand fell in the hourglass, it seemed to be moving slower.

            "Yes, you felt it right, time has changed.  There are a couple of things Draco that you should know about this room when it is in its current condition."  He turned and walked across to the opposite side of the room.  The circle of glyphs appeared on the floor.  Etean took position by the wall and motioned for Draco to stand in the circle.  He continued to speak as Draco crossed the room.

            "First, that sand will take one hour to fall from the upper globe to the lower, it is the only thing that remains in the normal flow of time.  While it is falling, time will pass faster for us.  One hour in here will be the same as ten minutes out there.  This will allow us to train for as long as we need to without our absence being detected by others."  Draco reached the centre of the room and stood facing Etean.  He nodded, showing he understood.  Etean continued, "The second thing is…" he waved his hand and launched a ball of energy at Draco, Draco felt his instincts take over, he reached out and focused on the incoming energy ball and tried to slow it.  Something was wrong, he had barely time to realise that it wasn't working when the spell flew past, inches away from his head.  He turned to stare at Etean. "In here, while the hourglass is running, everything is harder.  The Ethereal Magic is already under a great tension, you will have to learn finesse and skill to achieve the results you desire.  But first you must learn to communicate."

            "Communicate?"

            'Yes, communicate.'  Etean's voice sounded in his head.  Draco was confused, why did it matter if he could communicate?

            "Why do I need to learn to do that?  How will that help me beat Voldemort?"

            "You need to learn it.  It is the first step in your training."

            "I don't have time to follow all the steps and stages, you came here to help me beat Voldemort."

            "And I intend to."  Etean sighed, he lowered his head.  "What would you have me teach you?"

            "Teach me spells, teach me how to do some of those tricks you do."

"That's what I'm trying to do."

"No, I mean teach me how to fight the way you do." Etean shook his head, Draco pressed on, "Look, Etean, I don't know if all your fun earlier has affected your memory, but we…no _I_ am in a very serious situation here and I don't have a lot of time to waste following The Circle's silly training scheme."  Etean's face darkened again.

            "Nothing about The Circle is _ever_ silly.  What I am trying to teach you is important."

            "How?  Tell me how learning to speak with my…my mind or whatever is important to my training."

            "Fine I'll show you, but first draw your wand.  Stand ready to defend yourself."  Draco complied, he levelled his wand at Etean and braced himself.  At first Etean just stood there, then he slowly reached into his cloak and drew out a wicked looking silver dagger.  Draco swallowed hard at the sight of him casually fingering the blade.  He didn't attack, he just grinned at Draco and started talking again.  "Now, there are three reasons why communication is the first skill you should learn.  One, it is relatively simple to learn, though it does require very fine manipulation of the Ether it is still a good place to start.  Two, it will allow us to work together more easily and closely, we will be able to carry on sensitive conversations without fear of being overheard and third, that which most directly answers your question.  Communication is the skill that opens the door to the first of the Three Pillars of Combat."

            "And what are they?"  Etean didn't answer, he just stared at Draco.  Draco stared back, listening to the pounding of his heart in his ears.  He adjusted his grip on his wand, it felt really awkward holding it in his left hand, his whole body felt out of position but what choice did he have?  Still Etean didn't move.  The noise in his ears was joined by a second, louder noise.  It started as a hum, but it rapidly grew into a high pitched scream, higher and higher it went, louder and louder.  The noise started to hurt, it grew to be too much for Draco to take.  He screamed and grabbed his head in agony.  He felt dizzy from the pain, he fell to one knee, praying he would pass out.  In an instant the noise stopped, suddenly he was free of the pain.  He opened his eyes, Etean was gone.  He didn't get the chance to wonder why as he felt a sharp pain on the top of his head.  Etean seized a handful of his hair and yanked his head up.  He felt the point of the dagger press into his throat.  Etean looked down into his eyes.

            "The first Pillar, if I control what you _hear_, I can hurt you."  Etean released him, his head shot forward and he fell flat on his face.

Draco got up trying to clear his head and looked around, there was no sign of Etean anywhere.  He took a moment to recover extended his senses again as he tried to locate him.  Nothing, he could sense no trace of him.  WHAM!  He shut his eyes as the room filled with a blinding light.  His senses retreated out of reflex as he was overwhelmed by the glare.  It was several seconds before he could open his eyes again.  He wished he hadn't!

The room was gone, he was on a ledge, a narrow strip of rock jutting out of a vertical cliff that stretched up as far as he could see.  It was hot!  He looked down over the edge onto a sea of fire below, the heat and smoke washed over him, he felt it singe his eyebrows.  How had he gotten here?  Where was here?

The questions evaporated as the rock started to shake beneath his feet, the sea of fire below him erupted.  A massive column of flame shot into the air, rising to a point over a hundred feet above his head.  Draco watched open mouthed as the pinnacle of the flames exploded.  The flash blinded him, he shut his eyes and turned away when he heard an ear-splitting shriek fill the air.  He opened his eyes and looked up once more to see a great bird, wreathed in flame, spread its wings and rise into the sky out of the explosion.  It let out a second blood chilling scream, the sound nearly deafened him.  Draco watched in horror as the bird swooped down, turning to fly right at him!

In panic he stumbled backwards, his wand flew from his hand but he was far too scared to notice.  He was desperate to get away from the creature.  But he couldn't go far, his back slammed into the stone wall behind him, he was out of ledge, there was nowhere left to run, he was trapped.  The bird landed on the ledge, the stone shook again under the weight of the enormous creature.  Its wings folded forward, pressing against the cliff face, caging him in fire.  A wave of heat blasted into him and nearly knocked him out.  It leaned forward, its face drew level with his, now only inches separated them.  Draco stared terrified into its eyes as they changed, the flame died, suddenly Etean was standing in front of him again.  Draco was pressed to the stone wall of the training room with Eteans dagger again to his throat.

"The second Pillar, if I control what you _see_, I can defeat you."  Again he lowered the dagger and turned away.  Draco relaxed, he reached up to check his neck for blood, there was none.  Etean walked to the centre of the room and turned to face him again.

"And the third pillar," his eyes flashed with silver fire.  Draco screamed as a wave of agony, worse than any he had felt before slammed into him.  He fell to his knees, screaming for Etean to stop.  And he did, the pain left as quickly as it had come.  Draco looked up at Etean as without a word, he raised his hand and hurled the dagger straight at his head.  Draco watched it flight in slow motion, he couldn't move, couldn't even twitch to get out of the way.  He closed his eyes…but the dagger never hit.  He looked up again to see it hovering less than an inch from his face.  Etean was still standing there, his arm outstretched toward him.  Somehow he was holding the dagger in mid air.  He spoke again, "If I control what you _feel_, I can _kill_ you."  The knife dropped out of the air and landed with a clatter on the stone floor.  Draco sank back and sat against the wall, tears flowing freely from his eyes.  Etean walked over and knelt down in front of him.

"Your battle with Voldemort, when it comes, will not be about spells and wands and duels.  Those things are important to master, but they will not save you in this.  When the time comes Draco, you won't have any weapons or tricks to hide behind, all you will have, all you can rely on is this." He reached out and tapped Draco's forehead.  "If you learn to use it properly, you will be able to control your environment, your instincts will be your weapons, they will be all the tricks you tricks you need.  The Three Pillars form the basis for all the defence training that members of The Circle receive.  It is through them that you will grow strong enough to conquer Voldemort."  He laid a hand on Draco's shoulder.  "But I don't expect you to master everything, it takes most people a lifetime to do that.  There is much you will not be able to learn before your time comes Draco, so I will have to chose what to show you and what not to show you.  What I do expect is that you trust me Draco.  If I say you need to know something, then you must believe that you do even if the reason behind it escapes you.  Can you do that?"  Draco took a deep breath and wiped his face with his cloak.  Eventually he nodded.

"Ok, so how do I…communicate?"  Etean smiled, he stood and held out a hand to help Draco up.  Draco reached up with his right hand.  Only then did he realise that he had neglected to wear the glove.  Etean paused, then reached down and caught him by the forearm to pull him to his feet.

"Later, you've had enough for now.  We'll start the lessons tonight."  He looked down at Draco's hand.  "You know, you're right, that is going to attract way too much attention.  Even with the glove, the fact that you can't use it yet is going to cause difficulties.  Lead to questions."

"I don't see an option do you?  There's no way to hide the fact that I can't use my hand is there?"  Etean seemed pensive for a moment.  It was a tricky problem alright.  Then he smiled, Draco didn't get the joke.  "What?"

"When is our first Defence class?"

"Today, after lunch why?"

"Because if you can't hide something," he shrugged, "you don't."

"Riddles again?"

"I know," he looked at the hourglass, it was half empty.  He waved at it and it emptied in an instant, the world shifted back to normal.  "Come on, I'll explain on the way."  He turned and left, Draco followed him back to the Slytherin dorm.

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            The Slytherin table was surprisingly quiet that morning.  The senior end of it anyway.  There were a lot of sore heads after the previous night's festivities.  Only Etean and Draco seemed to be fully awake.  Pansy did not look happy!

            "My neck is stiff."

            "That's what you get when you sleep in an armchair," Millicent Bulstrode answered her, she seemed to be amused by Pansy's condition, "Maybe you should get Etean to rub it better?"  Pansy turned to look at Etean, he seemed fully engrossed in whatever he and Draco were talking about.

"Hmm, maybe." her tone sounded mischievous.  "Etean?"  He turned to look at her.

"Yes Pansy," his tone was the same oily drone he had used last night.  Draco scowled and took a huge mouthful of porridge.

"Are you any good with your hands?"  He raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever do you mean?"  

"Well…seeing as we were…interrupted last night, I was thinking that maybe we could…find somewhere quiet for you to give me a massage."  Her eyes darted to Draco, looking to gauge his reaction, he just continued to chew his porridge, apparently ignoring her.  Undeterred, she carried on, "I promise I'll return the favour, if you know what I mean?"  Etean considered her offer for a moment, then shook his head.

"Yes Pansy, I know exactly what you mean and," he paused to take a mouthful of scrambled eggs, "as I said last night," he swallowed, "It is an interesting idea.  But there's just one problem, based on past experience." he stood up, finished off his pumpkin juice and started to gather up his bag.  Pansy, looked confused.

"What?"

"Well, you see, if we did do as you suggested, I give you a nice message, you'd enjoy it, you'd be…relaxed then yes?"

"Oh yes," she smiled at him.

"Yes, well," he paused, raising his voice so everyone in the vicinity could hear, "how do I know you won't pass out _again_ before we get to my turn?"  The whole table burst into a fit of sniggers, Pansy flushed red and glared at Etean.  Draco laughed and spat a mouthful of porridge all over the table.  Etean just grinned headed out of the Great Hall.  Draco grabbed his bag and left the table and the fuming Pansy to run out after him.  He was still giggling as he caught up.

"That was great, she actually though she could have you."

"No, she thought she could use me to get to you."

"What?"

"She's in love with you Draco.  At least whatever passes for love in her twisted little world."

"How would you know?" then he remembered, "Do you read the mind of everyone you meet Etean?"

"Eventually, but I didn't have to read her mind to know that."

"So how did you know?"

"I saw it in her eyes, the way she looked at you.  She was trying to use me to get a rise out of you, to get a reaction."

"You saw all that?"

"Yes," he paused at the door to the Transfiguration classroom, "and then I read her mind."  He smiled and walked inside.

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            The sixth years were standing in bunches in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, waiting for the class to start.  Their teacher, whoever it was going to be, was late, the class was supposed to have started five minutes ago.  Everyone was talking, speculating about what the new arrangement was going to be like, different teachers all the time, learning to duel.  Some, Slytherins mostly seemed nervous, the Gryffindors were happier.  Harry Potter looked extremely confident, he was wandering around sharing tips with anyone who would listen (except the Slytherins of course).  Draco had told Etean about the whole Dumbledore Army group that Harry and the others had set up last year, how a lot of them had learned a lot of combat skills from Potter.  He was a gifted duellist by all accounts.  'We'll see.'

He had to admit, Harry was not what he had expected him to be.  Based on what he had read about him, and what he had pulled from Draco's mind, he had expected anything from an egotistical, self centred asshole to Merlin incarnate.  Instead he was just a normal teenager.  Normal in most respects anyway.  In some ways he was different but they were all due to the horrid things that he had gone through in his life, anyone who went through times like those would be a little unusual.  The only truly unique thing about him was his abatile, it twitched in a strange way from time to time, like someone was pulling at him from far away.  From what Etean knew about him and his history with Voldemort, it wasn't hard to guess who was doing the pulling.  Strange, Etean had expected the link between them to be stronger, more tangible.  After all, even the wizards had learned about it.  But Etean couldn't see it at all, only its affect on his abatile registered on his senses.  Still he knew that the link was there, if he watched Potter close enough, he might be able to find a way to trigger it, to use it to his advantage.

            Filing that away onto his 'to do' list, he turned his attention to more immediate matters.  He looked around at the other students, trying to find someone to talk to, to pass the time.  He didn't know most of them, he didn't really _want_ to talk to any of the Slytherins, they made his skin itch whenever they opened their mouths, and Pansy was ignoring him.  Not that he cared in the slightest but with Draco preoccupied, at least he could have spoken to her.  She was amusing, if only from a purely psychological point of view.  He had never in his whole life come across anyone, anyone that wasn't insane, with a more delusional mind.  She could actually convince herself that any given situation was whatever she wanted it to be.  It was fascinating to watch her mind rewrite events as they happened.  Maybe she was insane?  He shrugged, he didn't really care.

            He turned his attention to Draco, he was still staring at his hand, visibly rapt with joy at the sight of his fingers moving freely again.  Maybe this was a mistake.  How would he react to losing it again?  Etean had explained to him that the glamour wouldn't hold, it was too complicated a spell to maintain, that even as it was, if anyone were to touch it they would know it was a spell.  He shrugged, this was the only way to cover Draco's injury without revealing at least a version of the truth.  The term stuck in his mind, 'version of the truth'.  What _version_ were they using now?  He had lost track, this plan was becoming far more complicated in reality than it had seemed when the Council had debated it.  Still it was too late now.  He looked up as the door opened.

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            The door of the classroom opened, everyone fell silent.  Hermione bit her lip!  For some reason she was nervous.  Professor Flitwick entered the room, smiling and waving to all as he passed through.  He walked up to the teacher's desk and, once he had engaged a few students to pile up some large books for him to stand on, turned to face the class.

            "Good afternoon class," he piped in his usual perky manner, Hermione smiled, his voice always cheered her up, "and eh, welcome to your first Defence Against the Dark Arts class, that is to say, your first _Duelling_ Class of the year.  Now as you all know, I am somewhat knowledgeable when it comes to duelling, having won several high profile duelling contests in my day."  The class all nodded.  It was true, she had seen several of his trophies in the school trophy cabinet.  Flitwick continued.

            "Now, as you know, owing to our already busy schedules, the staff members have decided to em, divide the responsibility for this most important class between ourselves.  We will each be taking it in turns to teach you the skills you need to become top class duellists.  My em, speciality was always defence and em, avoidance!  If your opponent can't hit you, he can't beat you eh?" he chuckled, seemingly amused by the comment.  Again there were the nods, accompanied by a few giggles at the tone in his voice.  It was getting more and more high pitched as he went on.

            "So then, em before we get down to learning any new skills, I must first assess the skills you already have.  I shall call each of you up in turn and cast a spell at you.  Nothing dangerous so don't worry, you will be in no danger.  Your job will be to block or avoid my charms as best you can.  Does everyone understand?  Excellent so, if you will all line up against the walls we can begin."

            The class bustled noisily and divided in two.  They stood along either wall, waiting for their turn.  When they were ready, Flitwick consulted the list.

            "Now I will call you in no particular order.  Now lets see, who first.  Ah I know, Harry Potter." He called.

            "Good luck," Hermione whispered to Harry, he ignored her.  Maybe he didn't even hear her.  The look on his face was hard, he was focusing all his efforts on this.  She watched as he stepped out and stood ready, facing Flitwick.  The professor raised his wand and shouted,

            "Rictusempra!" The tickling curse flashed red in the air as it flew at Harry.

            "Deformatia!" Harry shouted.  The spell bent in the air and flashed over his shoulder, detonating on the wall behind him.  A confident smile spread across his lips.

            "Excellent Mr. Potter.  Well done, though I never use that particular defence myself…"

            "Why not?"  Hermione jumped as Harry cut Flitwick off, his tone was belligerent, confrontational, "It's a perfectly useful defensive spell."  Flitwick looked totally taken aback.

            "Of course it is, but it is unpredictable at best.  The deformation charm will disrupt the course of a spell but it is impossible to determine in what way.  You could…"

            "I could inadvertently send it at someone or something that you don't want it to hit," Harry sounded impatient as he interrupted again, "but I don't think anyone will get very far by playing it safe." He raised his voice and looked around him, "We all have to take risks."  Flitwick for once looked really annoyed.

            "Mr. Potter, you are not here to teach this class, you are here to learn.  And I do not appreciate being interrupted.  See that you don't do it again, now back to the wall."  Harry turned, scowling and walked back to the edge of the room.

            "Harry!" Hermione scolded him quietly, "you shouldn't talk back to Professor Flitwick like that."  Harry just looked at her and clicked his tongue.  He shrugged and turned away from her.  She was about to admonish him again when she heard Flitwick calling her name.  It was her turn!  She turned and stepped forward.  Suddenly she was very nervous.  Everyone was looking at her and that just made it worse.  She stood ready, Flitwick took aim,

            "Tarantallegra!"  Hermione tried to respond, she knew what she had to do, her body just wouldn't move.  BAM!  The spell hit her and her legs started kicking and waving madly in all directions.  The whole room exploded with laughter as she fell over, her legs still flailing around madly.  The laughter seemed to grow louder with each passing second until Flitwick removed the spell.  Harry and Ron stepped forward and picked her up.  They had to practically carry her, twitching all the way back to the wall.  "Bad Luck!  You will have to work on your reflexes Ms. Granger." Flitwick's tone was not meant to be cutting, but Hermione felt herself blush.  She hated failing in front of a teacher.  She had to fight to stop herself from crying.

The laughter subsided as the class continued.  Students were called up one by one and tested.  Some blocked and were congratulated, some failed and received laughter.  To Hermione, none of it seemed as loud as when she had failed, Professor Flitwick didn't come down so hard on them.  Her legs still twitched.  She wanted to get out.  How much longer was there until this class was over? 

Her eyes scanned the room.  She was trying to gauge how many students were left to be tested.  They came to rest on Malfoy, he was definitely not himself lately.  She had noticed that the change in him that she had seen in London appeared to be sticking.  He was clearly trying to hide it but he looked almost nervous standing there talking to Etean.  What had changed him?  Her gaze moved to Etean.  There it was again, the strange sensation she had felt when she first met him.  She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about him seemed wrong.  She had tried to convince herself that she was just being silly, after all she didn't know him!  She had never even heard of him before yesterday on the train, though she seemed to be in the minority on that regard.  Everyone it appeared, knew about Robert, the Lord Etean.  According to the stupid gossip magazines Ginny had shown her, he was the closest thing to royalty that the wizarding world had.  Still, something about him bugged her, something she had seen in his eyes as he introduced himself.  She shrugged as she continued to watch him, maybe it was nothing.  There didn't seem to be anything odd about him, he was cocky, self confident, maybe a little arrogant, the perfect Slytherin.  He certainly seemed to be fitting in with them quickly enough.  Already, he and Malfoy were almost inseparable.

A sudden silence filled the room as Etean was called forward.  He and Malfoy were engrossed in their conversation and it seemed neither had even heard his name being called.  Theo Nott had to lean over and give him a nudge before he looked up.  Flitwick called his name again.  Etean turned and said something to Malfoy before he stepped forward.  Whatever he said caused Draco's expression to change to one of curiosity.  He had a strange look in his eyes as he watched Etean.

            Etean turned smartly and faced Flitwick.  He reached into his robes and took out his wand.  He looked at it for a moment, before lowering it to his side.  Flitwick hesitated but Etean nodded to show he was ready.  Flitwick took aim and shouted,

            "Cacophanus!" the curse shot at Etean.  Hermione barely saw him move, she did hear him shout,

            "Arresto Incantatum!" as he raised his wand.  There was a bright flash as Flitwick's spell hit Etean's wand and stuck.  It just continued to fizzle and spark along the length of the wand for several seconds.  He looked up at Flitwick and smiled before pointing his wand at the floor, "Finite!"  The spell shot off his wand and detonated on the ground.  The room fell silent, everyone just stood there staring at him.  He smiled again and strolled back to the wall.  Flitwick jumped up and down, clapping so hard that he nearly dropped his wand.

            "Well done, well done Mr. Etean.  I have never seen a student that could perform the arresting spell so expertly."  Etean just nodded at him and leaned back against the wall, resuming his conversation with Malfoy.  Flitwick took several seconds to recover before he continued with the class, calling Malfoy forward.  Hermione noticed that he started to look even more nervous as he stepped out.  He turned to face Flitwick, raising his wand.  She thought she saw him tremble slightly as he did.  Her eyes moved back to Etean, unlike everyone else in the room, he was not looking at Malfoy.  Instead he was staring intently at Flitwick.  His face was set, as if he were deep in concentration.  He had folded his arms across his chest but she could see that the fingers of his right hand were extended, pointing at the Professor.  Flitwick seemed to pause, confused by something.  It was a moment before he recovered himself, he levelled his wand and shouted in a much deeper voice than he normally used.

            "Immobulus Mortem!"  Hermione had ever heard that spell before.  A blast of white light shot from Flitwick's wand and hit Malfoy.  He fell to the floor screaming in agony, cradling his arm.  The whole class exploded into chaos.  Pansy Parkinson shrieked as she and half the Slytherins ran over to Malfoy, gathering round him to see if he was alright.  The rest stood where they were, gasping in surprise.  Hermione looked at Flitwick, he just stood there, apparently as stunned as the rest of them were at what had just happened.  It was almost thirty seconds before he recovered enough to shout them all back under control and then order Malfoy taken to the hospital wing.  Crabbe picked Malfoy up, he was still screaming and howling in pain as he was carried out of the classroom.  Flitwick only paused to dismiss the class before heading out after him.

            "What the hell just happened?" she asked, turning to face Harry and Ron.  Harry shrugged.

            "Guess Flitwick went a bit overboard."  She looked to Ron, he was grinning from ear to ear.

            "What makes you so happy?"

            "What?  Didn't you see it Hermione?  That spell nearly tore his arm off!" He sounded delighted at the thought of Malfoy sustaining serious injury.  Hermione knew why he was acting like that but still, she didn't like it.

            "Ron!  This is not funny.  Malfoy could be really hurt."  Ron smiled even more when he heard that.

            "I know, it's great!"

            "RON!" she barked at him.

"Hermione, he deserved it!"  She scowled but he ignored her, turning to Harry, he said,

            "You wanna go play Quidditch or something?  It seems we're done for the day," Harry nodded and they moved to leave.  Hermione was going to stop them and scold them about how they shouldn't treat this incident as if it were comedy but she stopped herself.  'What's the point?  They don't care.  Maybe they would if it had been Neville or Pavarti, but not Malfoy.  Come to think of it, why did she care so much?'  Her thoughts derailed as she turned round.  Etean was still standing by the opposite wall.  As she looked at him he stood up and moved to leave.  Had he been looking at her?  What was he doing to Flitwick?  Did he cause him hurt Malfoy?  Why?  She couldn't shake the nasty feeling about him as she returned to the Gryffindor Common Room.


	16. Slytherins New Seeker

Draco shut the door of the bedroom and shut his eyes as he leaned against the inside. Silence! He was glad to be away from Pansy and the others. Their incessant badgering about the condition of his arm was really starting to grate on his nerves. Compared to that, the silence of his bedroom was blissful.

"What did the nurse say?" Draco's eyes slammed open in surprise at the sound of Etean's voice. 'Was he here a minute a go?' He looked over to see him sitting on his bed with a book in his hand.

"She was a little confused that her treatment didn't work," he let out a quiet, hollow laugh, "It seems that I have a rare resistance to the remedies for this kind of injury. There is nothing more she can do for me. Apparently only one in ten thousand people are like me." His tone turned to pure sarcasm. "I'm very unfortunate." Etean laughed.

"The number is closer to one in fifty thousand according to what I read." he shrugged, "At least she didn't notice the glamour. How does it feel?"

"The same, I didn't even feel the spell hit."

"Why would you? It didn't."

"What?"

"The spell hit the glamour, it took the full force of it. Well, just about, Flitwick is quite a lot stronger than he looks." Draco was surprised at how bad he felt that their little ruse had required him to think that the injury to his hand was his fault.

"I've never seen Flitwick so upset. He didn't stop apologizing the whole time I was in the infirmary. In the end Madame Pomfrey had to send him away." Etean sighed.

"I know, it's unfortunate but what choice did we have? It was the only way to explain your injury. Well, the only way without resorting to the truth anyway." Draco lifted his arm out of the sling Madame Pomfrey had given him and held it up. The glamour Etean had cast on it had started to fade. His skin was returning to its previous sickly purple colour. He could see the scar starting to reappear beside his thumb. He frowned at the sight of it, the thought of anyone learning about it horrified him.

"The truth…right. I wouldn't even know how to begin to tell them that."

"My neither, so you'll just have to continue you are, wearing the glove and working on learning to use your hand again."

"Why can't I just keep using the glamour? I know you said it would be too hard for you to maintain the illusion, but I don't see why you don't just show me how to do it myself."

"Because Draco, it is a far too complex spell for _anyone_ to maintain permanently. Even if you were only to cosmetically hide the damage, it would be too much of a drain on you. And you'll need all the strength you've got to get ready for what's coming." Etean stood up and shook his head, "No, its better for you get used to using your real hand as it is. The glove will hide the evidence well enough once you can do that."

"But now everyone knows I can't use my hand, I don't have to worry about it."

"This is still only a temporary fix Draco. Madam Pomfrey knows she can't make you better but she is wrong about why. She thinks it was Flitwick's curse that paralysed your hand," Etean stood up and waved his hand in the air, out of nowhere a silver goblet filled with what looked like Pumpkin Juice appeared. He caught it and took a long drink. "Still, even if she can't make you better, she will expect you to _get_ better on your own. Without treatment, the spell Flitwick hit you with can only cause paralysis for a month, six weeks is the absolute limit. We have bought you time to regain the use of your hand that's all." Draco knew he was right, sighing, he nodded. Etean drained the goblet and dropped it, it vanished before it hit the floor, he turned to Draco, "Have you been trying?"

"Of course I have, the exercises Lord Poliakov showed me aren't working."

"You have to give it time Draco."

"That's what you keep saying but…I…just…can't…do…it," Draco's voice turned to a snarl. Etean remained calm.

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me how you've been trying." Draco raised his arm again. He tried to clench a fist. His face screwed up with concentration as he stared at his hand. Nothing happened for several seconds, then his fingers twitched, slightly.

"You see? All that effort and all I get is a twitch." Etean paused before he spoke again.

"Believe it or not, that's good Draco. According to Poliakov, the exoskeleton needs time to get used to you, to figure out what you want it to do. Keep trying, I promise it will get easier as time passes," he reached into his pocket and drew out Draco's leather glove and handed it to him, "Come on, it's time for dinner, I'm starving." Draco pulled the glove on and settled his arm in the sling before they left and headed to the common room. Pansy jumped to her feet and ran over to Draco the second she saw him.

"There you are Draco, I was beginning to worry."

"What for, I'm fine Pansy."

"No, you're hurt. Flitwick is a menace, the old fool should have been put out to pasture years ago."

"It wasn't Flitwick's fault Pansy he just…just got a bit too excited that's all."

"Excited? He could have killed you."

"Oh come on Pansy, it isn't that bad. I'll just have to do without my hand for a while." His voice nearly caught in his throat as he said that, but he kept his tone even. He tried to push past Pansy and leave but she clasped onto him and turned to walk with him. She stuck to him all the way to the Great Hall and insisted on sitting beside him at dinner.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Etean sat opposite Draco and Pansy, trying hard not to laugh at the scowl on Draco's face as she cut his food into bite size pieces for him. She had tried to spoon-feed him at first but he had insisted that he could manage some things for himself. Etean could sense Draco's irritation rising with each sorrowful lament she made about his arm. Pansy seemed oblivious to this, she flat out ignored his requests to change the subject. Etean was baffled, could someone be this insensitive? Curious, he looked into her mind, yes was the simple answer. Her mind was busy erasing whatever argument they had been having, along with her attempts to make him jealous by flirting with Etean. Draco's injury had reset the board as far she was concerned. In her head, she was playing the dutiful girlfriend, no, it was more than that. She was happily settling back into the role she had built a role for herself in Draco's life and future, she had it all planned out. The only word Etean could come up with to fit the image she had in her head was…wife! Etean was curious as to what reaction Draco would have if he knew how far ahead her plans for the two of them stretched, or how detailed her fantasies were. She was already picturing their wedding! Etean shook his head slightly and returned his attention to his food, this girl was _definitely_ crazy.

Then he felt Hermione walk in! Despite his best efforts he found his eyes drawn to her as she entered the room and sat at the Gryffindor table beside Potter. As he watched her, he felt the wave of hatred rise up inside him again. The bile rose in a wave from his stomach, just as it had on the train. Again the years of society training kicked in, the mask went up and he split in two. Outside, public facade of Etean continued eating in silence, his attention fully fixed on his meal. Inside the real Etean screamed and raged. It took all the control he had to stop himself from leaping up and blasting her into oblivion once and for all, it would be so easy. Too easy! The anger got worse and worse until he was sure it was visible on his face. He shut his eyes and lowered his head into his hand. 'Get a grip on yourself Etean. Focus on what you're here for. You knew the situation before you arrived. You knew she was here. You knew you would have to look at her, to be in the same room as her…DEAL WITH IT...The plan, focus on the plan. It is too important for anything else to get in the way.' Grinding his teeth he fought the anger down. Slowly it receded, he grew calmer. Only then did he notice Draco speaking to him. He looked up, Pansy had stopped mothering Draco, she had her back to him, and was now fully engrossed in conversation with Millicent. Draco had been joined on the other side of the table by Blaise Zabini, newly elected captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Both of them were looking at him with confused expressions.

"What?"

"Are you alright?" Draco sounded concerned. Etean shook himself back to reality.

"I'm fine. What did you say just now?"

"I was asking if you've ever played Quidditch?"

"Oh…," he paused. 'What?' he thought, he shrugged, "Yes of course I have, why?"

"Well...we were just wondering because, you see, I normally play seeker but now, he pointed to his arm, "so…"

"So we need a replacement." Blaise jumped in impatiently, then seeing the glare in Draco's eyes, he added, "Just till Malfoy recovers. Really we only need someone to play Gryffindor in a couple of weeks." 'Where did this talk of Quidditch come from?' Draco shrugged.

"Well, maybe Draco will have recovered by then…" Etean started but Draco interrupted.

"That's just what we were talking about. Weren't you listening?"

"Apparently not, fill me in."

"Well, it's true that there are a few weeks till the match, but as it stands I can't train. This means that even if I am able to play, I'll be so out of practice that I'll be about as much use as a blind doxy."

"Can't they just reschedule the game to give you more time, given your situation?" Draco shook his head.

"Blaise tried that. Madame Hooch said that we have enough time to find a replacement so the game goes ahead."

"She did agree to let us have extra practice sessions to train our new player. So, will you play or not?" Etean shrugged, this wasn't why he was here.

"I'm not sure if I'll have the time."

"You'll manage it somehow, it's just till I get better. We need a seeker." Draco sounded pretty genuine. Etean was actually surprised for once. Did he actually give a damn about Quidditch with everything else that was going on? He looked into Draco's mind, it seemed that he really did care about the team. Etean sat back and thought about it, he hadn't intended on playing the student that much. Still, he hadn't planned on doing a lot of things that he had wound up doing. Could it hurt? Not really. Could he do it? He supposed he _could_.

"I'll think about it," he said.

Blaise scowled as he stood to leave them, "Think fast, our first practice is Thursday night."

Etean looked at Draco again as she left. He leaned forward on his elbows, "What the hell do I want to play Quidditch for?" he whispered, "More importantly, why do you want me to?"

Draco shrugged, "Simple really, I want to win the Quidditch cup?"

For once it was Etean who was at a loss to follow the conversation, "You want to try that again?"

Draco leaned down, bringing their heads very close together. He too spoke quietly, so as not to be overheard, "Look, I've been thinking. The way I see it, this as my _last_ year here," Etean opened his mouth to object but Draco stopped him, "Don't worry about them, they aren't listening. Look, my point is if this is my last year here, I want to enjoy it. I'm going to do all the things that I always planned to do before I left. Winning the Cup is one of them. I really don't want Potter and his buddies to beat us _again_," he looked around again to make sure no one was listening, "I won't be ready before the match against Gryffindor, I know I won't. But if you fill in for me, with all your skills, we are bound to win!" He grinned and sat back.

Etean didn't respond for a while, he just sat there considering what Draco had just said. Thinking long term, Draco's certainty that he was doomed to die was going to be a problem, he would have to shake him out of it somehow. But Etean understood his attitude, even if he didn't agree with it. From where Draco stood, there was nothing to look forward to except death. Were he in his place, Etean would be trying to enjoy himself as much as possible before the end. If that was Draco's goal, then who was he to stop him from achieving it?

"Alright, I'll do it," he said, "But only the Gryffindor game, you had better recover in time for the others. I mean it Malfoy" Draco grinned. He turned and looked down the table to where Blaise was sitting, he called him and gave her a nod. Then he turned back to Etean.

"Hold on, do you even have a broom?" he asked,

Etean shook his head "No, not with me, I'll send word for one to be sent here. It should arrive before Thursday."

"Oh don't bother," Draco dismissed him, "you can use my Nimbus…can you fly? I mean are you any good?"

"It's a bit late to be worrying about that don't you think? Of course I can fly, it's in my blood." Etean smiled, though he knew Draco wouldn't get the joke. Draco just shrugged and returned to his food. Etean took one more look across the room at Hermione, he wasn't quick enough to stop himself from tensing as he saw at her. 'Snap out of it Etean!' He shook his head, it was no good. He needed to get out, to get away from her. He stood up to leave, Draco looked at him.

"Where are you going? You've barely touched your food."

"I know. I'm not as hungry as I thought I was. I'll see you later." He put enough emphasis on that last sentence to make sure Draco wouldn't argue the point. He sent him a private message so that he knew where he meant to meet him, and he left. No one notice him as he marched through the corridors. Moving through public places undetected was a skill he had learned to master by his eighth birthday. He travelled down the stairs to the dungeon and along the dark corridor with hardly an upward glance. He reached the training room and entered.

Circle training rooms are far more complicated than they appear. They have many uses, countless uses and Etean knew them all. More importantly he knew what he wanted to use the room for now. He walked to the centre of the room and closed his eyes, the room around him swirled as his thoughts pushed out. Etean pulled and tugged at the Ether until it was in turmoil. He let his thoughts drift, his mind expanded and was lost in the storm. Gradually he grew calmer and more focused as his thoughts emptied into the maelstrom. Then he pulled back and focused. He imagined what he wanted to happen, who he wanted to see, the face he wanted to destroy. He pictured her in his mind as he remembered her, the room did the rest. He opened his eyes and there she was exactly as he pictured her, with her long curling auburn hair bordering on frizzy. She stood there, her slender figure not disturbed by the chaos surrounding her. Her face bore no expression. The rage rose inside him again, he didn't resist it this time. It grew and grew until his mind was as chaotic as the room around him. He reached out with all his strength and pulled the Ethereal magic to him. His skin tingled as he raised his arm and pointed at her, energy swirled and surged down to his fingers. A glowing ball of energy started to form as he closed his fingers into a fist. She didn't move. She would if he wanted her to, he controlled her. He knew that, but the fact that she just stood there enraged him further. The energy sparked and flashed along his arm, the green fire in his hand grew bigger and brighter as he pulled more and more energy into it. He looked at her, into her eyes.

All it would take was a thought, just release it and she would be gone. This would be the last time he would ever have to see her. Still she didn't move. He stared into her eyes. She stared back. More and more power flooded into the ball, the light started to obscure her. Holding it in place was starting to hurt. He revelled in the surge of pain he felt as the spell burned his hand. Still he held it, still she didn't move. The pain grew more and more, fuelling his anger. Tears stung his eyes as he screamed at her. Still she didn't move. Again and again he roared at her until his throat hurt but still she didn't move.

With a final roar he released the ball and collapsed to his knees on the floor. The spell flashed past her head and exploded against the wall. He looked up at her. Through the tears that now flowed freely from his eyes he could see her still standing there. The spell flamed and burned on the wall behind her framing her.

"Why?" he asked hoarsely. She didn't answer, she couldn't. Gradually she faded away, leaving him alone. He curled into a ball on the floor, lost in despair. He lost track of how long he lay there but it was a long time. It wasn't until his senses told him that Draco was coming that he was able to snap out of it. How long had he lain there?

Etean looked around as he stood up, the room around him was a mess. The walls and floor had been singed by his tantrum. The wall directly in front of him was marred by a smouldering crater. Draco was getting closer, heading down the corridor. 'Pull yourself together Etean.' He shut his eyes and took a deep, slow breath before he brought his hands together and clapped three times. The room flashed and shimmered as the damage faded. By the time Draco opened the door, there was no trace or clue of what had transpired. Etean turned to look at Draco as he entered.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," Etean retreated behind his mask again. Draco shrugged.

"I had to wait until Pansy left me alone didn't I?"

"Managed to get rid of her at last did you?" Etean's lips curled into a grin, Draco scowled.

"Yes…finally. Can you teach me how to make her disappear?" Etean laughed.

"No…well, not yet anyway. We have a lot to cover before we get to anything that complicated." He clapped his hands and vacated the centre spot. "Right then, we have to show you how to communicate…"


	17. A Stolen Kiss

Rain poured down on Hogwarts. The clouds above were so dark that it was almost impossible to tell if it was day or night. The rain hadn't shown any signs of easing off all day, but that didn't seem to matter to the Slytherin Quidditch team. They had been training for hours and showed no signs of stopping. From his seat in the stands, Draco could hardly make out the seven green blurs as they shot back and forth through the downpour, attempting to perfect the new tactics that Blaise had come up with. Based on the occasional shouts that he could hear floating over the wind, he was far from happy with their progress. Unlike the other captains that Draco had played with, Blaise was actually trying to turn Slytherin into a real Quidditch team, Draco admired his dedication. The others had all been convinced that sheer brawn and brutal, bully tactics were all that was needed. Blaise had other ideas, he was even trying to get Crabbe and Goyle to think before they acted – a practical impossibility as far as Draco was concerned but he persevered nonetheless, shouting her head off all the way.

He sighed as he picked out the dark shape of Etean swooping through the air dodging a Bludger. He was good, a natural flyer. Despite the fact that Draco had no choice but to step aside, and the fact that it was only a temporary arrangement, it still bugged him to see the team flying without him. The fact that Etean could take his place so easily only made it worse, was he that expendable? Draco shivered. It was getting very cold up here in the stands. His cloak was keeping him dry, but the wind was really starting to get to him. How much longer were they going to stay at it? He checked his watch. 'Shit!' It was nearly nine o'clock, he was supposed to be on patrol soon. He bundled his cloak around him and headed down out of the stands.

As he ran back up towards the school, his thoughts turned to the Quidditch Cup. He had to admit that even despite the fact that he wasn't playing, he liked the way the team was shaping up. Blaise was actually a good keeper, obviously he had spent the summer practicing. Nott, Daniels and Turner had the makings of a great team of chasers. Even Crabbe and Goyle actually looked to be shaping up to be halfway decent beaters, once they learned to tell one end of their clubs from the other that is. And then there was Etean. He was certainly well up for the task of playing seeker. Even with all the bad weather, he had managed to snare the Snitch in minutes every time Blaise had released it. Draco smiled to himself. He liked Slytherin's chances this year.

Draco reached the Entrance Hall, paused to shake the excess water from his cloak and headed up to the second floor to the Prefect's Common Room. There were still quite a few people around the corridors at this hour but he ignored them, his thoughts were still on the team. He reached the common room and went inside. One of the better perks of being a prefect, the common room offered a quiet place to pass the time or even to study when the house dorms were too crowded or too noisy. Draco had had some fun in here. The Inquisitional Squad had managed to pretty well commandeer the place last year. It had been the venue for many a good party. The room had been refurbished over the summer, paid for by some generous school governor no doubt. Expensive new rugs were spread across the floor in place of the old threadbare ones from last year. The tattered old chairs had been replaced by a dozen brand new leather armchairs. Draco liked the new chairs, by the feel of the leather they must have cost someone quite a bit. The smell of the new leather made the room feel rich. Draco wondered if there would be any parties here this year.

Inside the common room was dark, the fire was a dying red glow and none of the candles were lit. Draco carefully threaded his way through the chairs to the fireplace, he took out his wand levelled it at the dying embers.

"Ignitio!" he said quietly and the fire was suddenly roaring again. He pocketed his wand and stood on the hearth, trying to warm himself up. He heard a noise behind him and spun round, instinctively going for his wand. His hand stopped mid motion as he spotted the source of the sound. Hermione was sitting in an armchair facing the fire, fast asleep. Some book or other that she had been reading had fallen off her knee to the floor. Draco stood there, just looking at her. Ordinarily in this sort of situation his mind would automatically be planning some fiendish prank to play on her. At the very least he would make a sudden, loud noise to wake her, and hopefully scare the life out of her while he was at it. But this time, his reaction was different, she looked different somehow.

Before all he would have seen was the cocky little mudblood that had caused him so much grief. The girl he had despised since the second he had met her. Now as he gazed at her, she looked…his mind searched for a word to describe her. The only one he could think of that even came close was…delicate. The thought of disturbing her horrified him. It struck him just how pretty she was. He had never looked twice at her before but now he couldn't stop himself staring at her. There she lay curled up in the chair, her head resting on the leather, just sleeping, and he was mesmerised. A few strands of her hair had fallen free of the loose bun on the top of her head and hung down, framing her face. She frowned and twitched in her sleep. He smiled at the sight of her dreaming, he wondered what about. God, she was beautiful. How had he looked at her all these years and never seen her? He moved closer to her, wanting to get a better view. Up close he was surprised to see that she was wearing make up, he could make out the faintest hint of colour highlighting her cheekbones. Beneath her eyes, there was a tiny band of freckles that the colour didn't quite manage to hide. They made her face seem even prettier somehow. Did she leave them visible on purpose? No, she wouldn't bother going to all that effort, she didn't need to.

Her face was getting bigger. No, he was moving closer to her. He couldn't help himself. He held his breath and moved closer. Inch by inch he brought his face closer to hers. His mind raced, what was he doing? His eyes drifted closed as he felt their lips meet. It was only the faintest contact, her lips felt like a feather brushing against his. Draco held the contact for barely a second before she stirred. He pulled back and stood up as she licked her lips and woke up. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, a look of surprise spread across her face. Looking into her eyes made her seem all the more beautiful, Draco felt as if he was about to fall headlong into those brown pools. Forcing himself to look away, he turned his back to stare into the fire. He shut his eyes again and licked his lips. He could taste a subtle flavour on them that he couldn't identify. Some strange combination of fruits that she was wearing on her lips. His mind froze as he savoured the taste of her lips. Behind him, he heard her stand up. 'Snap out of it Malfoy.' Putting on his best superior expression, he turned to face her.

"Ah, so we're awake then?" he had wanted his tone to seem annoyed, but he didn't do a good job of it. Hermione rubbed her eyes and yawned.

"What were you doing just now?" she sounded groggy.

"What? …I was…I…what do you mean?" his heart began to thump in his chest, how was he going to explain kissing her?

"You were standing over me, just now when I woke up, what were you doing?" Draco let out the internal breath he had been holding. She didn't know.

"Oh…I was…I was going to wake you up." He forced his voice to sound calmer, "It's nearly time to go on patrol."

"What time is it?"

"Nine o'clock, well, just after." She stretched her arms and yawned again. He couldn't stop himself noticing her figure, slim but well filled out in all the right places. Every thing he noticed about her made her seem more beautiful. Was this the same mudblood he had hated for the last five years? Hermione rubbed her face and looked around.

"I must have fallen asleep." She shook her head and picked up her book from where it had landed on the floor. She stuffed it into her bag. Draco fought to stop himself staring at her as she bent down. 'Get a hold of yourself Malfoy!' He tried to think about something else, anything else besides how good she looked.

"What were you reading?" It was all he could think of. She spun round and frowned at him.

"What?"

"The book, what was it?"

"Oh…just something Professor Flitwick gave me to read. A book all about defensive charms and how to use them. He thought I needed the extra help after my pitiful performance on Monday," her voice sounded hollow.

"Flitwick called your performance 'pitiful'?" That didn't sound like a word he would use.

"No," she sighed, "That's my word for it. I was pathetic." She sounded really upset. Of course, he got it now. The fabulous student Hermione Granger, always top of her class, had failed a test in front of a teacher. It had to be killing her. Again, the old Draco would have been overjoyed at that kind of opportunity to dig at her. Now all he wanted to cheer her up.

"You didn't do that bad."

"Not that bad? I froze completely," she shut her eyes and shuddered, "you were there. Everybody laughed at me."

"I didn't," he said quietly, the words were out of his mouth before he realised it. Her eyes snapped open, her expression became more confused. 'Shit, what the hell am talking about?' He felt himself start to blush in embarrassment. "I mean…" he was desperate to cover himself, "I didn't do any better than you did." He gestured with his hand, still in its sling, "I think it's safe to say that I did worse than anyone." Her face relaxed, a look of concern replaced her frown.

"That was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah," he let some real pain slip into his voice, "whose fault was it then? Flitwick's?" She shook her head.

"No, it wasn't anybody's fault. Flitwick didn't mean to hurt you." She stepped forward and winced as she pulled back the sling and looked at his arm. "How is it?"

"Numb! I can't move it at all." He looked at her, into those beautiful eyes. He could tell that she was really concerned for him. A lump formed in his throat.

"Can't Madame Pomfrey do anything?" he shook his head.

"No…she said…" he paused.

"What did she say?"

"You mean you don't know? The gossips of the school must be slipping. I thought everyone knew the gory details by now." His voice was starting to sound really shaky. Hermione bit her lip for a moment before she spoke.

"No…well…yes. I mean I have heard stories, but I didn't…There are always rumours here. But I don't know the truth." 'HA,' he laughed inside his head, 'would you even understand the truth if I told you? Do I?' He swallowed.

"Well…the spell Flitwick hit me with it…damaged my hand. Madame Pomfrey says that there's something about me that means magic can't heal this injury. I just have to get better on my own." Hermione looked down at his hand again.

"Oh, will you…get better I mean?" Draco shrugged, would he?

"I don't know…" his voice trailed off. Did she have to stand so close to him? Draco felt as if his heart was about ready to punch through his chest. Every time she looked at him he felt dizzy. Carrying on this conversation was getting harder by the minute. He took a deep breath and tried to get himself under control. He turned away from her and looked at the chart on the wall, the one that showed the areas of the school that the prefects were supposed to patrol. "Em, what sections do you want to cover?" he looked back to her as she shrugged, her eyes were still on his arm.

"It doesn't matter," her voice was quiet, "How about I do the top and you take the bottom," he nodded, the bottom, the dungeons and the dark corners. He was supposed to be at home there.

"Suits me." He turned to leave and noticed that she was still holding the sling. "Erm, I will need that arm back at some stage." She jumped and looked back at him.

"Oh, sorry," she let go and stepped back to finish packing her bag. As the distance between them increased, Draco had to fight the urge to follow her, to be near her again. He didn't trust himself to speak to her as they left the room to start their patrol. Outside in the corridor they parted, she went one way to the stairs and the upper floors. Draco stepped back into the shadows and watched her as she walked away, even the way she walked raised his pulse.

"Snap out of it Malfoy!" he scolded himself quietly, forcing himself to turn away and head off to the dungeons to start his rounds. He remembered the affect she had had on him in Diagon Alley. He had been fixated on her then too. 'Look where that got you!'

In silence he walked down the back staircase to the dungeons. The image of her face, the touch of her lips consumed all his thoughts. What had gotten into him? Kissing Granger…Hermione like that. What if she had woken up? How would she have reacted? Would she have screamed? He shook his head. No, more likely she would have hexed him and gone running to tell Potter and Weasley. That would have really made his week. Still, he wasn't scared of those two at all, especially not now. After going a round with Lucius and the Death Eaters, he was fairly certain that he could hold his own against the terrible twins. But if she had realised what he had done, Potter and Weasley would only be the start of his troubles. With the way gossip spread though the school, it would be less than no time before everyone knew. He would be a laughing stock. Draco Malfoy, kissing a mudblood, the Slytherins would probably roast him alive. At the very least, none of them would ever speak to him again.

Draco stopped in his tracks. 'Get a grip Malfoy. This is Hermione Granger you're thinking about here. You kissed her! What the hell has gotten into you?' He scowled and marched on down the dark corridors of the dungeon. The same thought kept repeating in his head, over and over again. 'I kissed her.' As he continued his rounds, paying no attention to where he was going, a second thought joined the first, 'I want to do it again.'

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Hermione's hand trailed along the marble surface of the banister as she strolled up the staircase on autopilot. The more practical part of her brain had apparently figured out that her mind was somewhere else and had taken over. Without even realising it, she avoided obstacles and hopped trick steps as she headed up to the top floor to start her patrol. She closed her eyes as she strolled down a deserted corridor and inhaled deeply. She imagined that she could still smell his cologne, the strong but subtle scent that he wore. She had never smelt it before, when had she been close enough to Malfoy to notice before? Her eyes opened again as she snapped out of the daydream. She became confused. In her mind she replayed the conversation over and over. She didn't feel angry like she normally did after speaking to Malfoy, was she actually sorry that the conversation was over? Had that really been Malfoy? Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? Did she just feel sorry for him because of his hand?

She frowned as her mind turned to his hand. Damn, Flitwick really took a lump out of him. It must be really terrible for him to have his hand paralysed like that. Her frown turned to a scowl as she remembered the way she had been acting. Like her failure with Flitwick was anywhere near as bad as what had happened to Malfoy. The look in his eyes when they had talked about it had been terrible. It had been all she could do to stop herself from hugging him. If they hadn't separated when they did…She stopped dead in her tracks. 'Hug Malfoy?' Yes that had been what she was about to do, he was hurt and she had wanted to make him feel better, that was just her natural reaction. 'Yes but…Malfoy?'

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Etean didn't look up as Draco entered the training room. He just sat there in the middle of the floor, cross legged with his eyes closed. Draco leaned against one of the pillars and watched him for a moment before he casually reached up and knocked the stone. He jumped back as a deep resounding boom echoed through the air. He stared at the stone of the pillar, 'Did I hit it that hard?'

"No, but you should be used to surprises in here by now Malfoy." Etean stood up and dusted himself off. "This is a Circle training room Draco," he said, seeing Draco's expression, "I told you when all this started that nothing is as it seems." He smiled and walked over to the side of the room, a small stool appeared out of nowhere, he sat down. Draco stepped into the middle of the room, he was anxious to ask the question that had been bugging him all night.

"Just what the hell have you turned me into?" Etean raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Now, while I'm sure this is going to be an interesting conversation Draco. I must admit that I have no idea what the hell you are talking about." Draco took another step forward.

"No? I'll tell you then. Do you know what I've been doing for the last three hours?"

"No, do tell."

"I have been on patrol, but I wasn't patrolling." Etean shook his head.

"You've lost me again." Draco shrugged and started to pace back and forth across the floor.

"What I mean is I have been wandering aimlessly through the corridors of this school like…like a lovesick puppy." Etean grinned.

"I see…now I presume, based entirely on your attitude that you are not exactly happy about that."

"Not happy?" Draco felt his voice starting to rise, "Of course I'm not happy."

"Why not?"

"I'll tell you why not. It's not like _me_ that's why not." Etean stood up and put his hands on his hips. He nodded, his expression changed to one of confusion.

"You know, I think you have changed Draco."

"Oh you do, do you?"

"Yes, you are starting to sound like me. Making no sense to anyone that isn't you. Now can you please explain just what you are talking about?"

"Alright." Draco marched over to him, "I, Draco Malfoy, do not wander around in some sort of trance because of a girl. Not for any girl, especially not for this girl."

"And which girl are we talking about," Etean turned his back and walked over to the hourglass.

"Granger…Hermione Granger." Etean paused before he got to the pillar and turned round.

"Granger? That Gryffindor girl from the train?"

"That one, yes." Etean shrugged.

"She didn't strike me as your type." Draco advanced on him again.

"That's my point," he jabbed a finger at Etean's chest, "She isn't my type. At least she didn't used to be before you…before I met you. So what have you done to me?"

"You know what I have done to you. I've been training you, well trying to train you at least." Draco shook his head.

"No way, you did something else – '_Nothing is as it seems,_' you said." Etean smiled again and shrugged.

"That's right, very little is ever as it seems. But I haven't _done_ anything to you," Draco scowled, Etean just carried on, "Look Draco, before I met you, what were you?"

"What?"

"How would you describe yourself, as you were then?" Draco thought about it, how would he describe himself? It was a tough question, in the end, he just shrugged.

"I don't know."

"Fair enough. I'll tell you shall I?" Draco nodded, "Before I met you, the best word I could have used to describe you was 'spoiled'."

"Spoiled?"

"Yes, spoiled. You were Daddy's little boy weren't you? All your life you had everything handed to you, your life, your friends, even your opinions. Nothing you ever had was ever truly yours." Draco shut his eyes, Etean clasped him by the shoulders, "Now, after the summer, after all your training, you are finally thinking for yourself for once. And do you want to know where that leaves you?"

"Where?"

"I'll tell you where it leaves you," he released him, "It leaves you in exactly the same position as everyone else. We all have to form our own opinions about people and about life in general. Now you will just have to do the same," Etean shrugged.

"But everything is different now. I'm different. I had friends here, I used get on with people here. Now I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from taking their heads off."

"Who?"

"Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle…pretty much the whole of Slytherin house." Draco scowled, Etean laughed.

"That bunch of idiots," he stepped back to the hourglass, "Did you really think of them as your friends?"

"Well…no. I guess not. But I used to be able to tolerate them. And as for Granger…" he paused, Etean turned the hourglass over, the world shifted as its effects took hold.

"As for Granger?" Draco sighed.

"Well…she's a mudblood."

"Mudblood?" Etean turned and raised his eyebrow again.

"It means she's a…" Etean raised his hand to cut him off.

"I know what it means. What I meant was, was the fact that she's a muggle born the only reason you had to dislike her?"

"Isn't it enough?" Now Etean looked really confused.

"Is it? Why?"

"Well…Because mudbloods are…well they're…I mean we're better than them."

"We?"

"Purebloods."

"Ah purebloods. We're purebloods are we?"

"Of course we are. My family is as pureblood as they come, six generations and not a single muggle or squib." Etean laughed again, his tone became pure sarcasm.

"Six generations eh? That's impressive. What about before that?"

"What?"

"I mean, six generations goes back what? Six hundred years give or take?"

"About that, so?"

"So, what was your family like more than six generations ago?" Draco shrugged.

"I don't know, what does that matter?"

"It matters Draco, because your family didn't just pop into the world six hundred years ago. They arrived the same way we all do, which means that they had parents, they had ancestors. And their ancestors had ancestors and so on. You mean to say that in all the centuries preceding your six generations of purity, not one muggle or muggle born witch or wizard found their way into the mix?"

"How the hell should I know? But I don't see your point."

"My point is that the whole pureblood, mudblood thing is ridiculous. _My_ family history goes back over two thousand years Draco. And, like you, I have never heard of a single muggle in my lineage. But even then, I can't be sure that there weren't any."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that purity of blood is a never absolute. We are all lost in between muggle blood and so called absolute purity. Who is to say where the line labelled 'Pureblood' should be drawn? I don't form any opinions on people based on their ancestry. I take people as they come. Take the Slytherin's for example. I was perfectly prepared to like or dislike them before I met them. Now," he shuddered, "Now I know them."

"And?" Etean shook his head.

"And, purebloods the lot of them may be, but I wouldn't give you a bronze Knut for a single one." Etean walked over to the far side of the room, Draco automatically moved back to his place in the centre, "So, that's my opinion and your question dealt with. Now we have work to do you and me. So, how about you put the girl out of your head for now and focus on the task at hand – no pun intended." Draco laughed. 'So,' Etean's voice sounded in his head, 'where were we?' Draco opened his mouth to respond, Etean tapped his head and cut him off. Draco relaxed and concentrated, he closed his eyes and pushed out his senses to Etean. He could feel the tingle as he their minds connected. He opened his eyes, struggling to maintain the contact.

'I think we were about here,' he sent back.

'Good,' Etean started to walk around the room. Draco felt the contact start to waver and flicker as he moved, 'Concentrate on the connection, don't try to track my movements. It doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing. The connection is all you need.'

'I know, you've told me before,' Draco ground his teeth as he struggled to maintain the connection to Etean, 'It doesn't make it easy though…'

They continued like that for hours. Draco struggled to hold the connection, it gradually became easier. Etean continued to challenge him by increasing the difficulty. He carried on moving round the room, slowly at first, then faster and faster. He changed direction and speed over and over again until Draco could maintain the connection regardless of what Etean was doing. Draco was really pleased with himself but Etean wasn't done yet. The next stage turned out to involve Draco learning to communicate while distracted. By the time Etean was satisfied, Draco could carry on an uninterrupted mental conversation with him while Etean hurled spells at him in rapid succession, forcing Draco to duck and weave all over the room.

'Well done Draco,' Etean patted him on the back as they left the room, 'We'll make a fighter out of you yet.'

'Maybe, but not right now. I'm shattered.' Etean laughed.

'No, not right now. Now we sleep Draco. You're not the only one that's tired. Zabini is a real tyrant on the pitch you know.' Draco laughed.

"I know," he forgot and spoke out loud. Etean shook his head at him. 'Sorry, how was practice?' Etean shuddered,

'Don't ask. It's a good job you were busy tonight. It took me most of the evening just to dry myself off.' Draco laughed as they made their way back to the dorm.


	18. Dreams and Wishes

Hermione's back pressed into the wall, her head slammed back into the stone but she was too busy to notice.  She strained her neck forward as her lips sought to meet his.  Draco curled his fingers through her hair and held her head in place, intentionally keeping a full inch between them, teasing her.  She let out a slight moan of frustration as she pulled against his grip.  He was pulling her hair, the pain increased as she struggled but she didn't care, she had to reach him, to taste him again.  She moaned again causing a smile to spread across his lips.  He continued to tease her for a moment more until his self control gave out.  His face rushed forward and his mouth trapped her hers.  Finally the contact she had yearned.  She let herself drift as she the taste of him filled her senses.  His body pressed against her, crushing her into the wall.  Her arms wrapped around his waist, her fingers started to explore the contours of his back.

Draco deepened the kiss, his tongue pressed into her mouth, forcing her teeth open.  Not that she resisted in the slightest, she pressed her tongue into his with equal force.  Both their tongues began a rapid feverish dance, first in her mouth then in his, back and forth they went.  Hermione was glad to be pressed into the cold stone of the wall, her legs felt like they were made of jelly, she doubted if they would be able to sustain her anymore.  She felt dizzy, her heart pounded, her mind was awash with passion and blissful non thoughts.  They kissed for what seemed like hours until the need for oxygen forced them to separate.  Draco didn't go far however, his face drew back only slightly, she felt him take a quick breath then he closed in again.  He planted his lips on hers briefly before he broke the contact again.  On instinct, she moved forward, her mouth open, trying to hold the kiss.  She felt a sharp pain as her movement caused him to tug on her hair again.  Draco paused for a second then darted forward, his teeth caught her lower lip and squeezed.  He bit down on her and held on.  The pressure remained until a second soft moan escaped from her mouth, then he let her go.  His mouth moved down, grazing her chin with his teeth before kissing her again.  He continued along the line of her jaw kissing and nibbling as he went.

Hermione inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of him before she let out another moan as he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin below her ear.  He pulled back, the air felt cold on her neck as they parted.  His eyes were shining in the moonlight as she gazed up into them.  Slowly he untangled the fingers of his left hand from her hair.  She felt them gently trickle down her face across her eyes and past her nose.  She opened her mouth and caught the tip of his index finger in her teeth.  Draco smiled at her as she bit down hard.  He tried to pull free of her teeth but she held on.  She smiled around his finger, he had been in charge long enough.  She traced her fingers down his spine to his waist and then brought them round to the stroke his abdomen.  Draco shivered as her fingers brushed over his hips.  Hermione laughed slightly, he was ticklish.  She would have to remember that.  She brought her hands up to his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt as they went.  She felt his heart racing she ran her hands across his bare chest.  He tried to free his finger again but she held on.  Shaking her head slightly, she lifted her leg, slowly raising her knee in between his thighs until it brushed against his crotch.  Draco's eyes widened at the contact, Hermione began to slowly rub her thigh against him.  She felt her smile widen as she watched his reaction to what she was doing to him.  His eyes fluttered closed and he groaned.

Draco brought his head forward, Hermione released his bruised fingertip only now that she could replace it with his lips.  Their mouths began their passionate dance again.  She let it go on for several moments before she pushed him away, prompting him to groan again.  He pushed back, overpowering her by sheer force, but she had expected this reaction.  She ducked her head to the side and buried her face into his collar.  The scent of him filled her nostrils and she hesitated, lost in the sensation.  Draco started to pull back to try and trap her again, but that wasn't what she wanted.  He had teased her, now it was his turn.  Before he could pull back far enough to kiss her, she turned her face into his neck.  She opened her mouth and pressed her teeth into his skin.  She let him feel them, but she didn't bite down, she didn't need to, she got the reaction she wanted.  Draco paused, bracing himself for her bite.  She grinned into his neck and started to lick him, moving her tongue in small, rapid circles rising up until her mouth was just below his ear.  She could hear his breath quicken as she aroused him.  Now she was ready to bite him, her teeth closed on his earlobe and she started to tug.

"Hermione…" his voice was a stuttered whisper, she could barely hear him even though his mouth could only be inches from her ear.

"Hmmm?" her mind was far too gone to form words, but she knew she was enjoying herself.  Why was he talking?  She released his earlobe and licked the top of his jaw line playfully.

"Hermione!" he repeated, his voice sounded funny, it was too high pitched.  It almost sounded like…

"Hermione, wake up!" Hermione opened her eyes and looked up.  Lavender was standing over her, she looked annoyed.

"Mwhaa…" words were still just about beyond her.  She shook her head and tried to wake herself up.

"It's time to get up.  You slept right through your alarm, and mine.  Get up!" Lavender scoffed and turned away.  Hermione rubbed her eyes and sat up.  She was in her bed, in Gryffindor tower…alone.

"What…"  Lavender turned at the door and looked at her, "What time is it?"

"It's quarter past eight.  I'm going down to get some breakfast.  You'd better get a move on if you don't want to be late for class."  She opened the door and left, Hermione was alone in the bedroom.  She sat in her bed with her head in her hands.  'It was a dream,' she laughed quietly to herself, 'I was dreaming about _Malfoy_.'  She shook her head again and got up, grabbed her towel and headed to the shower.  Inside the bathroom she turned the taps until the shower water steamed from the nozzle.  Hermione hung her towel on the rack and stripped off her nightie.  She stepped under the jet of water and shut her eyes.  In her mind, she played the dream over again.  She took a deep breath and bit her lip for a moment before she smiled.  It was…an interesting dream.

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            Draco looked up as Hermione entered the classroom.  Her arms were laden with books as she bustled into the room and sat down in an empty seat near the front, dumping her burden onto the desk.  Draco couldn't help himself staring at her as she shuffled and sorted the pile of parchment and books and started shoving them into her bag.  She had just about finished when Professor Vector came in.  The Professor entered and shut the door behind her with a quiet, precise click.  Everyone snapped to attention automatically as she marched up to the lectern and turned to face the class.

            "Good morning and welcome to your first sixth year Arithmancy class," her tone bordered on the severe, but that was nothing unusual for her, it was just her way.

            "Good morning Professor," the class droned in response.  Professor Vector nodded,

            "Yes, indeed.  Now I know that you may believe that our timetable for this year is rather unusual.  You have no doubt noticed that instead of the normal three one hour periods we have spent together each week during the last four years that we have instead been issued a single three hour class on Fridays, i.e. today."  There was a general murmur of agreement throughout the room.  Draco _had_ noticed the change but he hadn't had time to really think about it.  Vector carried on,

            "The reason that I prefer to have the classes arranged in this fashion during the N.E.W.T. course is simple.  In place of our previous classes we will during this year be dividing our time between standard lessons and personal assignment work."  The class groaned, they knew all about Professor Vector's project assignments, the very though gave them cramps in their fingers.  "These assignments form the basis of our curriculum for the year and will be designed to promote some _real thinking_ on your parts.  You will have to use all of the techniques and proofs you have learned in the past, and those you will continue to learn this year, to devise and support your own solutions to the problems I set you.  Our somewhat lengthy sessions will be divided roughly in half.  The format will be as follows, first I will present detailed lectures on new material for your consideration.  After my lectures, the remainder of our time will be devoted to your project work.  In addition, you will occasionally be required to prepare presentations for the class to demonstrate your work.

"And so to begin," she stepped back from the lectern to the blackboard behind her and tapped it once with her wand.  A series of complicated graphs and equations appeared on the board.  Draco recognised some of them.  They reminded him of some of the transference relations that governed animal transfigurations.  A similar set of equations had formed the basis of their O.W.L. exam last summer.  Those were tough enough, but these equations seemed far more complex.  Vector turned back to the class,

            "These equations represent the reactions that govern Animagus transformations.  They were first thoroughly explored and proved by our own Professor Dumbledore some seventy years ago.  For your first task this year, you will prepare a substantial dissertation detailing precisely how the good Professor proved these equations and also to investigate the benefits of the proof to the wizarding world.  This project shall last for two weeks, at the end of which, you will be required to prepare a verbal presentation to support your points."  The noise level rose as the class heard the details of the project, it seemed to be exactly what they had expected.  It did not sound easy, and certainly not fun.  Draco's eyes left the Professor and returned to Hermione.  From her expression, she didn't seem to have a problem with the assignment, no surprises there.  He continued to watch her as the Professor kept talking.

            "Now, I realise that this seems like a substantial and most difficult project, and indeed it is," she smiled, "So, rather than for us to begin with a terrible ordeal.  I have decided to ease your burden.  This project shall be conducted in pairs."  She reached out and touched the board again, "I have assigned you all partners, and I will entertain no arguments for altering these pairings."  She gathered her robes about her and returned to the lectern, "So, to begin with, I have prepared a lecture on the history of the core equations that you will need to cover in the course of this project…"  Professor Vector kept talking, Draco tuned her out.  Hermione had turned to look at him, her expression was blank.  When he didn't look away, she raised an eyebrow.  He frowned, 'What?' he mouthed at her.  Her eyes darted back to the board, he followed her gaze to look at the list of assigned pairs.  There it was, his name, third from the top right beside…He turned back to her and raised his own eyebrow.  She held his gaze for a minute, then shrugged and turned back to the Professor.  Draco looked at her for a moment longer before he too turned back to Vector.

            "…the first recorded Animagus was Heinrich Van Leicht in 1753.  He developed the process by which all subsequent Animagii have mastered their transformations, though he lacked a true understanding of the complex magical forces he was harnessing…"

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            Hermione tapped her foot as she stood outside the library doors waiting for Malfoy.  He was ten minutes late and she was getting impatient.  She bit her lip and looked up and down the corridor but there was still no sign of him.  She shut her eyes and leaned against the wall.  As her shoulders hit the stone her mind flashed back to last night, and the dream.  She bit down on her lip harder, relishing the way the sensation reminded her of the dream…he had bitten her.  Thinking about it made the skin on her neck tingle…'Oh snap out of it Hermione.  It was just a fucking dream.'  She growled to herself and looked down the corridor again, still no sign of him.  'Fuck this!'  She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and stomped into the library.  She nodded once to Madame Prince and headed back to the study area.

            As she turned the corner of the bookshelves, she scowled.  Someone had been using her table.  She didn't mind that so much, it wasn't really hers, just the one she usually sat at.  But she did get annoyed when people used it and didn't clear up after themselves.  She dumped her bag and sighed as she started to clear away the random scraps of parchment that littered the tabletop.  As she shoved them aside, she noticed a magazine underneath.  She picked it up – it was an old copy of witch weekly, nearly a year and a half old judging by the date.  She laughed and shook her head, 'Why do they hoard theses stupid…' her mind stopped mid thought as one of the headlines on the cover caught her eye – '_Robert Etean – a Lord in the Making_'.

            Hermione sat down and flipped to the inside story.  She had never gotten over the feeling that there was something not right about Etean, though she could find nothing odd about him in any of the more reputable sources she had researched.  She found the story, it was a two page spread devoted to a party, Etean's sixteenth birthday party according to the caption.  A large portion of the left hand page was missing.  Someone, whomever had left the magazine here she guessed, had cut out a picture, probably an image of Etean himself.  Hermione sighed again, someone had a crush on Etean?  She shook her head and turned her attention to the text of the story.  She frowned as she scanned the paragraphs, '_Held on the evening of the summer solstice, the annual summer ball held each year at Chateau D'Etean, marks the beginning and, for some, the highlight of the summer social calendar._'  She shook her head, 'People actually read this stuff?'  It went on to mention Etean himself, '_This years party promised to be an extra special affair.  The guest of honour, Robert Etean, who recently celebrated his sixteenth birthday with a month long holiday in Africa, returned looking fit and tanned for this formal celebration of his presentation to the world._'  She shook her head again, 'presentation to the world?'  She read on but despite the fact that the article was supposedly devoted to him, there was scarcely a mention of Etean in the rest of the story.  It was just the normal gutter reporting she expected to find in this kind of magazine, full of boring details about the guests' designer dresses and who had become engaged to whom recently.  She was about to put the magazine down when her eyes fixed on a picture of the large crowd dancing at the party.  Smiling faces whizzed past in static, practiced poses as they danced.  One face in particular caught her attention, Lucius Malfoy!  'What was he doing there?'

            Hermione frowned.  Malfoy's father was at that party?  What was his connection to Etean?  He flashed past in the picture again, it was definitely him.  Well if all the elite of Europe were there, why not him?  Was Draco there too?  He did seem to know Etean fairly well, better than anyone else in Hogwarts in any case.  Maybe she should ask him about it.  She frowned and shut the magazine, 'You have better things to be doing Hermione!'  She piled the magazine and all the other scraps of parchment on the edge of the table, out of her way, before she took out her books and started reading up on Animagii.  She was busy reading when the seat opposite her was pulled out and Malfoy sat down.  She looked up at him and scowled.  He took off his bag and looked back at her, seemingly confused.

            "What?"

            "You're late!  You were supposed to meet me," she looked at her watch, "forty five minutes ago."  Draco shut his eyes and nodded,

            "I know, I know.  I got…caught up.  Sorry."

            "What do you mean 'caught up'?"  Draco sighed.

            "I was with Madam Pomfrey.  She collared me on my way here.  She wanted to go through some exercises to help," he held up his arm, "with this."  Hermione blushed, she felt the anger fade away.

            "Oh, right then," she wanted to change the subject, "Well, I suppose we should get to work."

            "Ok then, where do you think we should start?"

            "Well…I think it's best if we both get a decent grounding in the background.  Say chapters five and six," she tapped the book she was reading, "Then we can start to plan our approach properly."  Her tone had changed, she sounded very proper and official.  Draco scowled,

            "Yes Professor," she blushed again.

            "Sorry."

            "Apology accepted," he grinned, then snapped his fingers, "That's it!"  Hermione jumped at the sound,

"That's what?"

"I just figured out who you sound like, when you go off into teacher mode…McGonagall, without the accent of course," his grin grew wider as she felt a look of shock come to her face.

            "I do not!"  Draco shrugged, she opened her mouth to argue the point some more.  He raised his hand and put his finger on her lips to stop her.

            "Don't bother, I was only teasing," he took his hand away and bent down to dig his book out of his bag.  He dropped it on the table and started looking for the correct page.  After a few seconds, he found it.  Draco bent his head and started to read for a minute before he looked up to see her still looking at him, his eyebrow shot up.

            "Erm, aren't we supposed to be working here?"  Hermione realised she was staring.  She blushed and snapped out of it,

            "Oh, right sorry."

            "That's better…professor."  She looked up to see him smirking at her again.  She scowled,

            "Don't call me professor, Malfoy!"  She growled, he held his hand up in mock surrender.

            "Fine, fine whatever you say," He lowered his head again.  There was a moments silence before he added, "Sir!"  Hermione reached over and slapped him on the top of his head, not hard, but it made quite a noise.  Draco winced and rubbed his head, "Ouch, sorry, sorry."  Hermione scowled,

            "I seem to remember, Malfoy that we had this conversation before.  If I recall correctly we agreed that my name is _Hermione_," she stressed her name and forced her tone to sound angrier than she really was.

            "Ok then…Hermione," he glanced back down at his book, "now can we _please_ get back to work?"  Hermione forced the scowl to remain on her face,

            "Ok then," she lowered her eyes to her book again, then raised them when she realised he was still looking at her.  He looked her in the eye for a second, and then grinned.  She found herself grinning back at him as she lowered her eyes.

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            Draco shook his head and continued reading.  This page looked familiar.  He checked the number – 'It should, I've read this about ten bloody times already.'  He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  It was no good, he just couldn't concentrate on anything with her sitting so close to him.  He was fighting a losing battle of willpower to keep himself from staring at her.  They had been sitting here reading for hours but he didn't remember one thing from the text.  He turned to look out of the window, it was still cloudy from yesterday's rain.  The sky was dark and heavy, not at all pleasant to look at, but at least it was a distraction.  Hermione clicked her tongue and he looked back at her to see her scribble something out on the parchment in front of her and add a correction over it.  The desk around Hermione was covered in piles of notes, charts and general scribblings.  'Holy shit!  How many notes can one person make?'  Draco looked over, trying to decipher some of what she had written.  It wasn't easy to read her tiny writing upside down.  He reached over and picked up a pile of her notes.  Her hand slammed down on top of his.

            "Don't," her tone sounded very severe, it surprised him.

            "I'm not trying to steal them."  He stared at her, she shook her head,

            "I know you're not, but it's just…"

            "What?  They private or something?"

            "No…it's just…just they aren't very well organised.  They are a mess, just stupid ideas and things I thought up while I was reading.  I doubt they'd make much sense to anyone else."

            "How about you let me decide what I can and can't understand," he tried again to pull the parchment to him, but she still resisted.  He sighed, "Fine then, keep them to yourself if they are so important to you."  He released the parchment, she was still pulling it back to her, her hand flew back, sending the parchment flying in all directions.

            "Shit!" she said loudly, prompting a severe shushing from Madame Prince.  She stood up and looked at the mess.  "Cheers Malfoy!  Thanks a lot."  Draco stood up,

            "Sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen," he started to help her clear the mess up, piling the parchment as best he could with one hand.  She moved forward and got in his way,

            "Don't, I need to organise them, I need them in order, you won't do it right," she pushed him from the table with her shoulder.

            "Fine…fine, if you say so."  He shook his head and stood back, watching over her shoulder as she pulled and gathered up all the parchment into a rough pile and shoved it into her bag.  She certainly didn't seem to be sorting them much at all.  Then his eyes caught sight of a red magazine amongst the junk.  Too quick for her to stop him, he reached round her and grabbed it.  He stepped back and looked at it as she rounded on him.  'Witch Weekly?  She reads this?' he grinned at her.

            "So…this is what you were hiding is it?  You're ashamed to be seen reading this?" He waved the magazine at her.

            "What?  Oh grow up Malfoy.  I don't read that nonsense."  He smiled even wider as she blushed.

            "Really?  It doesn't look that way from here," he laughed, "So…the fabulous, intellectual Hermione Granger is a real girly girl underneath it all.  Who would have thought?  You'll be arguing with the rest of the airheads about new fashion trends next."  Hermione just scowled and turned back to the table.  She finished packing her bag and lifted it onto her shoulder before turning back him,

            "That is not mine Malfoy, I found it on the table earlier,"

            "Yeah…sure."  She scowled and shook her head,

            "Think what you want, bye."  She turned to leave, Draco stopped her,

            "Wait, where are you going?"

            "Gryffindor, I want to dump my stuff."

            "Why?"

            "We have the Duelling Club after dinner Malfoy, remember?"

            "Oh…yeah, I guess I forgot," he had, that surprised him.  She turned without another word and was gone,

            "Bye," he said to the empty air.

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            Hermione shut the door of the library and leaned against it.  'That was too close!'  Her hand fell into her bag and felt its contents, the absolutely useless notes.  What had she been playing at?  That was not studying!  She didn't remember a single word of the book she had been reading.  She shook her head and headed off to Gryffindor.  'At least he didn't see them.'

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            Draco paused in silence for at least a minute before he tossed the magazine onto the table and dropped into the chair.

            "Well done Malfoy that was just perfect."  He shut his eyes and got himself together.  He stood up and picked up his book.  His eyes fell on the magazine.  'Why did I make such a big deal about it?' he frowned as he noticed a scrap of parchment sticking out from between the pages.  He reached over and pulled it out.  It was a page from Hermione's notes, it must have gotten mixed into the magazine in all the chaos.  His mouth hung open as he looked at it.  There were a few attempts at what he could call notes, surrounded by scribbles and doodles.  His eyes were drawn to the centre of the page where, amidst the dozens of flowers and hearts was written in a heavily decorated script:

            "_Kiss me Draco!_"

            He couldn't force his eyes to look at anything but the words.  Those three words made his heart soar.  His fingers traced over the ink, she had written and re-written it again and again, adding little decorative curls and embellishments all over.  He folded it up and put it inside his robes, he realised he was grinning like some stupid idiot but he didn't care.  He packed his bag and headed to his dorm, fighting the urge to skip with every step.

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_A/N:  Ok guys, here we are at chapter 18.  I was kinda surprised when I saw the number, because I know all that I still have to do.  Thinking about it, id say that if I do it the way I had planned, it'll take me at least ANOTHER 18 chaps to finish this monster!_

_Oh well, I'll make you a deal, you keep reading and I'll keep writing._

_Bye for now, more to follow._


	19. The Duelling Club

Hermione scolded herself all the way up the stairs to Gryffindor tower. What the hell had gotten into her? – fantasising and daydreaming about Malfoy of all people. She was supposed to be studying, not acting like some lovesick girl. It was just a stupid fucking dream. That's what she kept telling herself anyway. She got to the portrait hole and growled the password. The Fat Lady swung back and she went inside. The Common Room inside was all but deserted, a couple of junior students were busy working or playing games, Ron and Harry were sitting by the fire. When they saw her enter, they stood up.

"There you are," said Ron, "We were beginning to think you were lost or something."

"Where were you?" Harry joined in. Hermione dumped her bag on a chair before answering.

"I was in the library, studying," she fought to keep her face blank, she was lying and she knew it. 'That was not studying!' She scolded herself again.

"Merlin Hermione," Ron exclaimed, "We've only been here a week, how much study can one person do?"

Hermione scowled, "For your information, Ronald, Professor Vector gave us a huge project today. We only have two weeks to do it."

Ron shrugged, "Sounds like loads of time to me."

Harry moved to leave, "Come on," he sounded impatient, "We had better get going if we don't want to be late."

"Hang on," Hermione grabbed her bag and headed to her room, "I just want to get rid of this."

"Hurry up," Harry called after her.

Hermione ran to her room and unlocked her trunk. Several pages of her 'notes' fell out of it as she tossed her bag into it. She frowned when saw them and then shook her head and slammed her trunk closed, causing Crookshanks to hiss at her from his spot on her bed.

"Sorry pet," she reached out and scratched him on the head before jumping to her feet as Harry called out to her from the Common Room. He seemed to be in a real hurry to get down to the Duelling Club meeting. Hermione checked to make sure her trunk was shut so that no one would see the evidence of her stupidity before running down to her friends.

"…is all you have to do," Harry was busy giving another one of his duelling lectures to Ron and Neville who had joined them by the fireplace.

'Great,' she sighed to herself, 'the tactical speech again.'

Harry continued, "Remember, just dodge and fire, make them miss. Don't let fear make you hesitate," he turned and nodded once as he saw Hermione beside him before he walked off to the portrait hole, still talking, "Shield charms are good, but they force you to stay in one place, you need to stay mobile…" Hermione shook her head as she followed them out and down the stairs.

They reached the Great Hall and went inside. Most of the sixth years were already there. Her eyes automatically found Malfoy sitting on the far side of the duelling platform with his back to her. He looked as if her were deep in conversation with Etean. Hermione stared for a moment, but then forced herself to look away from him. Her eyes moved to Etean and she stopped dead in her tracks as he looked back at her. For an instant, a single flash of pure, cold hatred filled his eyes. A lump of ice settled in her stomach and she found herself shivering. She blinked, and then it was gone. A confident smirk spread across his lips and he looked back to Draco, continuing their conversation.

"Are you alright Hermione?" Ron asked. He looked concerned.

"What? Yeah…I'm fine," she was still staring at the far side of the room, Ron turned to follow her gaze.

"I know," he said quietly, "I feel the same."

She was puzzled, "What?" she looked up at him.

Ron's jaw set, "I can't wait to get a crack at him either." Hermione looked into his eyes, she could almost feel her temperature rise as she saw his anger.

"Ron," she scolded, "We are only supposed to practice duelling, we are not supposed to hurt one another."

"I know that, but," he smirked and shrugged, "accidents happen!" His tone was completely serious. He turned back to the platform as Professor Snape stepped out and called them to attention. Hermione walked forward with him as Snape started talking,

"Good evening sixth years, welcome to the sixth year Duelling Society."

* * *

The Slytherin Common Room was full of people when Draco entered, not that he gave a damn. He barely even saw them as he crossed to the stairs and headed to his dorm. He swore loudly as he tripped over Goyle's bag inside the darkened room – 'What the hell is he playing at leaving that there?' Draco crossed to his bed and dumped his bag. He reached into his robes and drew out the scrap of parchment that Hermione had dropped. As he looked at it, he grinned and stuffed it under his pillow before turning to leave. The grin stayed on his lips as he exited the Common Room and headed up out of the Dungeons to the Great Hall. When he reached the top of the stairs and saw Etean. He was standing with his back to Draco, leaning on a stone statue. He was talking to someone but it wasn't until Draco turned the corner that he saw who. Draco paused, and then shrugged before heading over to them. Ginny laughed at whatever Etean had just told her. As he got closer, he heard the end of the story,

"…and they never did find the key." Etean smirked, Ginny giggled again, then froze as she saw Draco. Etean noticed her staring and turned round. "Ah, there you are Malfoy, I was just about to send out a search party."

"I was in the library, Arithmancy project."

"Oh, fair enough," Etean grinned and gestured to Ginny, "I was just telling Ginny here a couple of old tall tales."

"Is that so?" Draco mumbled half heartedly.

"Yes, and she was telling me about this Duelling Club. Apparently it's quite a bit better than the last attempt. She made fifth year champion by the way.' Draco looked at Ginny, she tensed. He was about to grumble some congratulatory remark, but she cut him off.

"I have to go," she said, clearly speaking only to Etean.

Etean looked surprised, "What's the matter?"

Ginny shook her head, "Nothing, I" she glanced at Draco, "I have to go. See you around." She turned and left, almost running as she climbed the stairs.

Etean watched her go for a moment, "Bye," he said before turning back to Draco with an annoyed expression, "You know Malfoy, you really have a way with women."

Draco shrugged, "I have a way with '_Weasleys_'. I shouldn't have to explain to you why,"

Etean thought for a moment, "No, I guess you don't. Their situation is…unfortunate," he straightened up and straightened his robes, "Anyway, are you ready?"

Draco frowned, "For what?"

"Duelling! You asked me to teach you how to duel, remember? Now I'm going to show you."

"How?"

'Simple really,' Etean turned and walked toward the Great Hall as he sent the thought, 'I have shown you how to communicate.'

Draco concentrated and sent back, 'Yes?'

'Yes and now I'm going to show you how to use your new skills,' they reached the doors and headed inside. Draco didn't respond, he realised that Etean would explain when he was ready and he was sure that Etean knew he was curious. The hall had already been prepared for the Duelling Club. The four house tables had been replaced by a long, low platform that bisected the room. An elevated wooden lectern stood beside the centre point of the platform, a place for the referee to stand. About half the sixth years were already here, including a bunch of Slytherins. Pansy waved him over, Draco sighed and headed toward her. Etean's voice drifted into his head again, 'Right, here goes. Duelling is all about tactics Draco, you move, they move, you hex them, they hex you. The trick to winning is to be a better tactician than your opponent. You have to guess what he'll do and do something better,' he paused and turned to Draco before grinning, 'Or you can cheat.'

They reached the group of Slytherins, Draco sat on the edge of the duelling platform, Pansy sat beside him and looped her arm through his.

"You shouldn't be here Draco," she purred in his ear, "not with your arm," she leaned in and dropped her voice to a mere whisper, "Why don't we slip away, up to your dorm where we can be…alone?"

Draco shuddered as she kissed his earlobe, he turned to her, "Save it Pansy, I'd rather be here."

Pansy let him go and pulled back, pouting, "But how can you duel with your arm like that?"

"I have two hands Pansy, I'll just have to use the other one is all," he stood up and turned to Etean. Theo Nott was talking to him about some spell or other that would apparently guarantee victory in any duel. Etean seemed fully engaged in the conversation, but it was an act. His voice sounded inside Draco's head, picking up where he had left off.

'Now, you said that when your father challenged you last week that you could feel that he was lying. You said that you could feel that the person sneaking up behind you was about to strike.' Draco nodded, Etean raised his hand and tapped the side of his head gently, a subtle reminder that the rest of them couldn't hear their conversation.

'Sorry, I mean yes, I felt it.'

'That's better. Now, I was actually quite impressed by that. It takes some people a long time to manage that level of telepathy.'

'Really?' Draco tried to make the thought convey his disbelief, 'It didn't do me much good did it?' He shrugged his shoulder, drawing attention to his hand.

Etean's eyes darted over to look at him for a moment, 'It got you out of there in one piece didn't it? Look, the point is not that you were hurt, it's that you managed to sense the impending attack in your enemies thoughts in the first place. Now that you have learned to communicate, you will be able to learn to do it properly.'

'How?'

Etean was about to answer, when Pansy spoke up and interrupted him, "Are you looking forward to duelling, Etean?"

Etean turned from Nott without missing a beat and faced her, "Of course I am, Pansy, it should be fun. Have you ever duelled before?"

Pansy laughed, "No, not often. I have better things to do with my time," behind her, Draco scoffed and sat down on the edge of the platform again. Pansy gave no indication that she had heard him.

Etean gestured to Nott, "Really? Well in that case, Theodore here has some ideas that may interest you. He has a few tricks up his sleeve apparently." Pansy turned to look at Nott, her voice sounded genuinely interested, Draco knew it was all an act, she was trying to make him jealous again. He shook his head as Nott started to explain about his all powerful spell to beat any opponent. Etean followed for a moment, ensuring that they were fully engaged in conversation before stepping away and moving back to stand in front of Draco. Pansy laughed aloud at some comment Nott had made, Draco turned to scowl at her. She pretended not to, but he knew she had seen his expression of annoyance. He turned back to see Etean gazing past him at the far side of the room. He had a strange look on his face. Draco was about to turn and follow his stare when Etean turned back to him and smiled.

"You really need to get your girlfriend under control Malfoy," he joked, Draco scowled.

'Parkinson is not my girlfriend,' he put as much force behind the thought as he could. Etean just laughed and patted him on the shoulder. He clasped him and turned him round as Snape stepped out of the crowd onto the platform. He marched to the centre point of the duelling platform, waving his hand in the air for silence, the students obeyed.

"Good evening sixth years, welcome to the sixth year Duelling Society," Snape started to pace back and forth along the length of the platform, glaring at each student as he passed. "This is the first opportunity for you to take part in the Duelling Club. No doubt you have heard from the other students who participated earlier in the week about the rules that will be enforced, but, just so as there is no confusion, I will re-iterate them now." He slowed his pace as he paced along the, continuing to looking every student in the eye as he passed, "This Duelling Society is supposed to be a forum for practical use of magic, both in combative and defensive spells and, as such, the restrictions on magical conduct that are normally enforced in this school will be somewhat relaxed for the duration of these club gatherings. This is not, however, a chance for any of you," his gaze fell on Harry, "to show off, or," he looked at Weasley, "to pursue personal vendettas, be they founded or unfounded.

"Your duels will be refereed by myself or by the presiding teacher, the referee's word and rulings are final in all matters. The spells and enchantments that you will use must be intended to disarm or temporarily disable your opponent, not to inflict any permanent or excessive damage. Also, you will be restricted to only cast enchantments at one another when directed, either during a match or in a supervised practice environment. Anyone found attempting to curse another student outside of these times will be _severely_ reprimanded."

Snape paused to glare at the gathered students once more, "Now then, this is supposed to be a chance for you to duel, so I see no further reason why we should not get right down to duelling. This first meeting will be a chance for everyone to gauge the relative talents of the other students. I will select a random pairing from amongst you and you shall duel, the winner will remain to face a new opponent, again chosen at random. We shall continue in this fashion until everyone has had a chance to compete. The remaining student will have the honour of bearing the title of Sixth Year Champion until such time as another student defeats them and takes the title. Does everyone understand?" There was a low murmur of agreement from the students. Snape turned and looked around, ensuring that there were no questions before marching over to the lectern. He took out his wand and waved it in the air above his head. Two golden sparks shot out of the tip of his wand and shot around. Back and forth they flew above the students' heads before they came to a stop, hovering above the heads of Goyle and Weasley. "Will the chosen students step forward?" Snape called. Weasley bounced onto the platform, Goyle was still staring at the spark. It wasn't until Pansy nudged him that he realised and moved forward. When he arrived, Snape began to list the rules, "The duel will last until one of you is either incapacitated," Snape scowled at Goyle's confused expression, "That means until you cannot fight anymore Goyle, or until one of you is disarmed – loses your wand." He shook his head, the Gryffindors and a fair few of the others laughed aloud at Goyle's idiocy. Snape began to list all the charms that were not to be used in the duel. Draco was listening when Etean's voice boomed in his head and distracted him.

'Now then, let me explain what we are really doing here. You understand that in order to communicate you must first build a bridge, a mental connection between your mind and another person's?'

'Yes,' Draco had to consciously resist the urge to nod, 'I get that.'

'Good, well, this bridge can be used to communicate, to transmit thoughts to another. This much you know, but it can also be used for other things. You can also listen. When the connection exists, your thoughts flow along it, so too do the other person's thoughts. But their thoughts are smaller, quieter, they are harder to hear. With a great deal of time and effort, you will be able to hear them clearly,' Draco frowned, Etean cut him off with a glance, 'I know we don't have time for such concerns, it is lucky for us that we do not need to. The thoughts I want you to be able to read tonight are going to be easier to hear.'

Draco looked up as Snape finished explaining the rules, Weasley and Goyle moved to the centre line and saluted each other before walking back to their places. Draco frowned, still puzzled as to what Etean was trying to say. Etean must have picked up on his confusion, 'Duelling is a high stress situation, and, in high stress situations, the mind becomes clearer. Thoughts become sharper, louder. I want you to reach out, connect your mind to Goyle and listen. Try to pick out his thoughts.'

'Thoughts?' Draco smiled, 'This is Goyle we are talking about.'

Etean smirked back, he raised his foot and kicked Draco's ankle hard, 'Yes, Goyle does think, just not often.' Draco shrugged and turned to Goyle, he extended himself and felt the slightest tingle as he connected to Goyle's feeble mind. He let out a slight grunt of frustration as he strained and struggled, but he couldn't hear anything.

'Concentrate, his thoughts are there,' Etean moved his hand slightly, 'Here, let me make it easier for you.' Draco felt the world shift as Etean slowed time, the effect brought the whole room to a near standstill. Draco marvelled at how easily Etean could manipulate time in this manner. 'It gets easier with practice,' Etean turned and grinned at him, 'Now, you won't be able to understand what Goyle is thinking with time stretched out like this, but you will be able to hear his thoughts, try again, clear your mind and listen.' Draco turned back to Goyle and concentrated all his attention on listening to the connection. 'Concentrate…' Etean's voice echoed through his head. Draco shut his eyes and tried not to think about anything else but the connection. At first there was nothing, but then, as if from far away, he heard it, a quiet buzzing sound, barely audible over the sound of his own breathing. 'That's it,' Etean congratulated him, 'There they are, now focus, allow your senses to take over, let them draw the sound out, make it loud enough for you to hear.'

Draco opened his eyes as he let his mind expand. His senses opened up, the shimmering world of the Ether surrounded him. He focussed on the connection to Goyle. The buzzing returned, it grew louder as he concentrated on it, he could hear it clearly now, a constant, thumping rhythm. Etean laid his hand on Draco's shoulder, steadying him, 'I am going to slowly release my hold on time, try and hold the thought as the world returns to normal. As it speeds up, you will be able to understand his thought as though it was your own, and then you will know what he intends to do. Try to realise it before he does it.' The world shifted, time sped up again. Draco mind lurched as he felt the sound change. The change was rapid, he almost lost it.

"Three…" Snape's voice was slow; time was still not at full speed. Draco struggled to hold onto the sound of Goyle's mind. It was shifting and changing faster and faster. 'No, you can already hear it,' Etean corrected him, 'you need to feel it, to think it. Let it wash over your mind, let it take shape.'

"Two…" Snape sounded more natural. Draco shut his eyes again and focused on the sound, it was repeating, the same pattern over and over again – it was a word. 'He's thinking of a word.'

'Good, now what is that word?' Draco let the sound fill his head, over and over again it repeated, louder and louder as time fully reverted to normal. He heard it, it snapped into his mind as clear as if Goyle had shouted it at him.

"Rictusempra," he said, his voice was barely a whisper.

Snape's voice bellowed, "One," and the duel was on.

Almost before Snape was finished his count, Goyle's arm was swinging forward, bringing his wand in line with Weasley's chest, "Rictusempra!" he bellowed, followed by a blinding flash of red light.

Draco felt his mouth drop open, he had actually heard Goyle decide to use the spell. The duel was short, as quick as Goyle had been, Weasley was quicker, he ducked beneath Goyle's curse and launched his own, "Stupefy!"

There was a flash and Goyle fell with a heavy thud to the floor. Weasley stood up, obviously proud of himself. There was a brief round of cheers from the Gryffindors before Snape silenced them with a raised eyebrow.

He turned and nodded once to him, "Mr. Weasley wins," Snape turned to Goyle's immobile form and aimed his wand, "Enervate!" The spell hit Goyle and he stirred.

It was several minutes before the other Slytherins were able to get him off the platform. Someone drew up a chair and sat him down. Snape waited until he was seated before waving his wand again and releasing another spark into the air.

'Well done!' Etean's voice stirred Draco out his amazement. The spark flew through the air above them to settle over Millicent Bulstrode. She paused, clearly nervous before clambering onto the platform, Etean continued, 'Now, do it again.'

Etean slowed time once again. Draco settled himself and then reached out to Millicent's mind. Drawing on his experience with Goyle, Draco found her thoughts more easily this time. He concentrated and allowed the sound to fill his mind. Etean relaxed his hold on time and it started to accelerate again. Millicent stood ready, but she wasn't. Draco could feel how nervous she was, her thoughts sounded erratic. They flashed through Draco's mind faster than Goyle's had done, and there were more of them. They kept shifting and changing, he couldn't pin them down. Draco looked up at her as time reverted to normal speed. He could almost see her thoughts shift and change behind her eyes.

"She's panicking," he whispered, "she won't fire."

Pansy heard him and turned to face him, "What did you say Draco?"

Draco shook his head and didn't answer. The countdown ended and the duel started. Just as he had thought, Millicent froze. Her wand hand didn't even twitch. Weasley didn't hesitate however. Without a moment's consideration, he levelled his wand and stunned her where she stood. The Gryffindors cheered as one.

Snape scowled and awakened Millicent, "Let us hope the rest of you can do better," he growled, more at the Slytherins than anyone else. Again the Slytherins had to climb onto the platform and pick up one of their own and carry her off to a chair. Things were not looking good for them. Snape released another spark, this time it settled over the head of Dean Thomas. Dean looked up at Snape and waited for his nod before hopping up onto the platform. He saluted to Weasley and then took his mark. Without bothering to repeat the instructions, Etean slowed time again. Draco reached out and isolated the sound of Thomas' thoughts. Again, he struggled to hold the sound as Etean released his hold on time. The chaos in Thomas' mind nearly overwhelmed him. He fought and struggled to make sense of the noise. A pounding sensation started to reverberate through his skull. He heard Snape countdown from three to start the duel. The professor's voice barely registered over the sudden headache pounding his temples.

"Rictusempra," he whispered. The pain in his head pounded harder, his knees buckled and he stumbled forward, but only an inch. Draco felt pressure across his chest and under his arms as though someone were physically holding him upright. He turned to face Etean as his voice sounded over the pounding.

'Well done, that's enough for the moment. Breathe, take slow, deep breaths and you'll be fine. It will get easier with practice.'

Draco looked down, he could still feel someone holding him upright, but no one was touching him. Mustering all his strength, he stood upright, feeling the invisible grip release him. Taking Etean's advice, he shut his eyes and took slow breaths. Over the next few minutes the pain slowly receded. He started to feel a little of himself again as he watched student after student step forward only to be defeated by Weasley. By the time Theo Nott was called out, the pain was all but gone. Draco felt strong enough to try again. He reached out and touched Eteans arm. Getting his attention, he nodded slightly. Etean seemed to understand, he looked up and waved his hand to slow time again. Draco reached out and tried to read Nott's thoughts. It was difficult, the headache seeming to dull his senses. Nott's thoughts seemed elusive, always seeming to slip from his grasp. Draco paused, took a breath and tried again. He reached out and pulled at Nott's mind with all the force that he could muster. The pain in his temple grew again as he finally isolated the sound. Draco ground his teeth and held on. Concentrating, he managed to hear Nott's decision.

"Stupefy," he lowered his head and shut his eyes, the pain faded.

"Stupefy," Nott bellowed. Draco looked up to see his curse detonate against Weasley's chest. He fell where he stood, out cold. Around him the Slytherins cheered. Draco winced, 'Ouch, not so loud.' Etean turned and smiled at him. The Gryffindors rushed forward to scoop Weasley up. As they carried him away, Etean nudged Draco's shoulder. Draco looked up to see Snape's spark hover over his head, it was his turn. He moved to climb up onto the platform, but Etean stopped him.

'Don't try to read his thoughts,' he warned. 'You are not nearly skilled enough and the distraction will be enough to finish you.'

'Then what do I do?' Draco asked.

Etean rolled his eyes, 'Trust yourself, Draco. Let your instincts guide you to see what he will do.' Draco looked at him, and nodded. He clambered onto the platform, not an easy task with one hand but he managed it. Draco watched Nott carefully as they saluted, staring into his eyes. Nott stared back with calm confidence. Automatically, the danger of the situation triggered Draco's senses. Draco relaxed and let them expand. Nott became a standing pool of shimmering light set against the background of chaos. Draco found that he had to focus hard to keep from losing. Snape shouted the countdown from somewhere far away, he didn't matter now. Nott moved, churning the pool as he did and sending out wave after wave of energy. Draco watched, fascinated by the majesty of it. Draco's senses tightened, he felt a threat incoming. A bright spot in the pool became brighter as Nott fired his stunner. Time slowed and he stepped aside, out of the spell's path and fired his own as though in a dream. The danger faded, his senses returned to normal. Draco just about saw the look of surprise on Nott's face before the spell hit and he fell unconscious to the floor. There was no applause, except from Pansy. She clapped twice before she realised she was alone and stopped.

Draco turned to Snape, he nodded, "Well done Mr. Malfoy," the Professor's eyes narrowed slightly, "It would seem that you have not allowed your injury to slow you down."

Draco nodded his thanks. The silence remained for a moment before Snape seemed to come to his senses. He roused Nott before releasing another spark. It whirled about in the air to settle over Potter's head. Potter looked up at Draco, a wicked smile caught the corner of his mouth before he moved to climb up. They stood eye to eye, gave one another a tiny salute and took their positions.

The countdown started, Draco readied himself. "Three, two, one…" and Potter fired, twice. Draco's senses tightened on the first spell, Rictusempra, time slowed and he dodged…right into the second spell. The stunner detonated, his senses collapsed in on him as the world winked out.

* * *

Draco opened his eyes to blinding light. He felt someone pick him up and carry him away. He didn't know to where, and he didn't care. The world around him was a multicoloured haze of light and sound that he didn't understand. He shook his head as he was plonked down into a chair. His vision slowly started to clear as he shook his head. The first thing he could identify was Pansy standing with her back to him. She turned and walked past him. 'Where is she off to?' he thought. Pansy faded in and out of focus as she moved to the end of the platform and stopped. He watched as she turned to face the opposite direction, looking past him. Draco turned to see what she was looking at, the dark blur he saw at the far end of the room eventually resolved itself into the shape of Potter. He was looking past him too, at Pansy, he had his wand raised. 'What's going on?'

"Three," a loud voice in front of him pounded in his head. Draco turned to look at Professor Snape, "Two…One," there were more shouts before he shut his eyes as a bright flash blinded him. He heard a loud thud from somewhere off to his right and he opened his eyes and looked round to see Pansy lying sparked out on the platform, her legs spread akimbo. From where he sat, Draco could see right up her skirt. He laughed out loud at the sight.

'Snap out of it Malfoy,' a hard voice boomed in his head, 'For pities sake, he didn't hit you that hard.' Draco looked round to see Etean glaring down at him.

"What?" he muttered. The image of Etean faded in and out before Draco's eyes. He saw him shaking his head before his eyes flashed briefly.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head, Draco came to and remembered where he was. The duel, Potter's curse all came rushing back to him. He wished they hadn't, his head hurt worse than before. Etean looked down at him and shook his head again. They didn't speak for a while, Draco slowly felt himself get back to normal as he watched Potter dispatch student after student. None even came close to hurting him. Draco grew more and more annoyed as he watched the smug expression get more and more prominent on Potter's face.

Then Hermione was called out. Draco found himself staring at her as she clambered onto the table. Beside him, he noticed Etean clenching his fist.

Draco stood up, "What's wrong?" he said quietly.

Etean didn't answer immediately. He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, "Nothing," he said in a whisper, "I'm just fighting the urge to slap Potter."

Draco turned and watched as Hermione and Potter saluted. Hermione smiled at Potter, he didn't return the gesture. His expression still showed his smug overconfidence. Draco frowned, he certainly wanted to slap him, but Etean?

'Are you OK?'

'I'm fine, watch the duel.' Draco turned back as Snape started the countdown.

"Three…Two…One," Potter aimed and fired a stunner almost before the sound had faded. He wasn't quick enough however. Hermione had obviously been studying the book Flitwick had given her very closely. She waved her wand and conjured a small wooden shield to protect herself from Potter's curse. The stunner detonated on the shield, scorching the surface of the wood. Hermione lifted her head from behind the shield and smiled at Potter. He just frowned and raised his wand again.

With a stern glare on his face, he bellowed, "Reducto!"

Draco shut his eyes against the glare as the spell shot past. The force of it made the hairs on his arms tingle. The spell hit Hermione's shield dead centre and shattered it into a million pieces. Shards of wood shot through the air as the remainder of the spell's power carried on and connected with Hermione. The force of it bent her double and hurled her off the platform and ten feet through the air into the rear wall of the hall. There was an astonished gasp from the students, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff alike. Even Snape looked surprised. Potter didn't look surprised, or even concerned. He lowered his wand and turned to face the professor. Draco turned to stare at him. What the hell had gotten into him? She was his friend for Merlin's sake. His expression was blank, but for a moment, Draco thought he saw him shudder slightly. Guilt? Or just fear of reprimand? Draco wouldn't have thought it was possible, but his desire to batter Potter actually went up a notch. He forced himself to look away from Potter before he lost his temper completely. He looked over at Hermione to see a bunch of Gryffindors led by Weasley had rushed over to help her up. Hermione stood at first, but then yelped loud and bent double in pain.

"You had better go to the Hospital Wing Miss Granger," Snape ordered, "Miss Patil, go with her." Pavarti Patil put her arm round Hermione's shoulders and led her slowly out of the hall. Draco watched her go before turning back to glare at Potter.

His temper surged, "Shit Potter, what would you have done to her if she wasn't your friend?"

There was a general murmur of agreement from the students around the room. Potter turned and glared back at Draco. He opened his mouth to respond but Snape interrupted him, "That's enough Malfoy. Mind your language in future," he turned back to Potter, "That was a bit excessive, Potter. There was any number of other ways you could have beaten her." Potter shrugged. The noise of people murmuring grew louder until Snape silenced them. He shook his head.

"Well then. It seems we are about finished. We have only one more student to challenge Potter. Mr. Etean, step forward."

Etean moved to get up onto the platform.

Draco reached out and stopped him, 'Flatten him!' he thought,

'Excuse me?'

'You said you wanted to slap him? Well now's your chance. Put him down…hard! Do us _both_ a favour.'

Etean paused, and then smirked, 'Just watch.' He jumped up and strolled over to salute Potter, and then marched almost casually back to his line. He stood with his wand was lowered by his side. 'Give me a five count.'

'What?' Draco asked.

'Raise your hand,' Etean made a gesture with his free hand, he held his fingers up, 'He gets five free shots.' Draco nodded and raised his hand, his fingers spread out to mirror Etean's gesture. Snape counted the duel down and Potter fired. The stunner flashed past Etean as he dodged to the side. Draco's mouth opened, he hadn't felt time slow for him to dodge. Had he really moved that fast? 'One,' Etean's thought pounded in his head, Draco lowered a finger. Potter fired again, and again Etean dodged. 'Two.'

Potter continued to launch spell after spell, Draco counted down as Etean dodged, three, two, and then one. Etean straightened up as the last free shot sailed by. Sensing the change in pace, Potter paused. Draco put his hand down and didn't bother to hide the smirk, 'Show time.'

Etean stood up to his full height, he rocked his head left and right, working the muscles of his neck to loosen them. Then he raised his arm and flipped the end of his wand slightly, inviting Potter to try again. Potter checked his stance and fired again. The stunner flashed through the air. This time, Etean didn't dodge. He moved his hand, a tiny movement and his wand started to spin in the air, twirling on his finger. The end traced a glowing purple circle as it spun. Potter's spell detonated in mid air, six inches from Etean's hand. The energy from it spread out to form a disk roughly three feet in diameter before it faded. Etean smiled and continued to spin his wand. Potter raised an eyebrow, finally dropping the smug expression.

"What is that?" he asked Etean.

"A shield Potter," Etean's grin remained, "Let's see you punch through this one."

Potter glared, angered by Etean's tone. He took a step forward, "Reducto!" he roared. His curse shot out and detonated and dispersed on the shield. This time however, it didn't fade completely. This time, a hazy, purple glow remained in the air. Potter fired again, and again, and again, with the same result. The shield remained hanging in the air, getting brighter as each spell infused it with more energy.

Etean continued to grin and twirl his wand, "You're persistent," he goaded, "I'll give you that." He stepped forward, the shield moved with him, getting brighter and brighter as Potter continued to try and punch through. Etean stopped short of the bisecting line, the shield hovered in the air. Potter stopped his assault and lowered his wand, out of breath. Etean shook his head. "There are ways around brute force." He lowered his wand and turned around. Potter stepped forward in sudden rage at Etean's condescending tone, and fired again. His spell hit that shield and, with an ominous rushing sound, it collapsed in on itself and detonated. The blast tossed Potter into the air like a rag doll in a hurricane. He spun and twisted for over ten feet before landing hard on the table, unconscious. The whole room was stunned into silence for a moment before a chorus of cheers and applause exploded from the Slytherins.

"Settle down, settle down." Snape's eyes went back and forth from Potter to Etean. The Slytherins ignored his half-hearted attempts to regain order. They closed around Etean as he dropped from the table. Draco suddenly found himself alone. He smiled and stared over at Potter as Snape woke him up. Potter sat up, his face was criss-crossed with countless burns and the front of his robes was in tatters. "Another guest for Madame Pomfrey it seems," Snape intoned from the lectern, largely ignored, "Mr Weasley, see that he gets there." With that, Snape turned and hollered at the Slytherins until they shut up. "Congratulations Mr. Etean, you have the temporary honour of being Sixth Year Champion," he tossed Etean a small golden badge, "Exactly how temporary it is remains to be seen. Now…back to your dormitories all of you." Despite their jubilation at seeing Potter defeated in such a fashion, the edge in Snape's voice was enough to prevent even the Slytherins from dawdling. Draco barged his way through the pack of Slytherins to Etean. He had intended to congratulate him but it was no use, he couldn't even hear himself think over the cheers of the Slytherins. Soon he was hopelessly caught up in the throng as they headed to the dungeons. Time for another Slytherin party!


	20. Nightmares and Visions

            "I don't know what Professor Dumbledore is doing, allowing that Duelling Club to operate," Hermione listened as Madame Pomfrey bustled about behind the curtain, treating Harry's injuries, she was clearly not happy.  "I have been run off my feet all week.  Fixing this, reattaching that, I only got that Charles boy back to the right colour this morning and now, I get you two," the curtain was pulled back, she glanced over at Hermione, "Keep rubbing that over the wound dear."  Hermione grimaced and pressed the bloodroot into her skin.  It burned, but it was making the bruise fade.  She looked back to Harry, he was still only slightly conscious.  Madame Pomfrey pulled the curtain back and continued to examine him.  She clucked her tongue in annoyance.  "You'll be spending the night here I'm afraid Mr. Potter," she appeared from behind the curtain and closed it behind her.  Shaking her head, she crossed over to Hermione again, "Let me see."  Hermione removed the root, Madame Pomfrey poked and prodded at her for a minute "Ok, that's as good as it'll get, you can go."  She turned headed out of the room to the storage cupboard to prepare some potion or other, grumbling all the way.

            Hermione stood up and pulled her shirt down to hide the fading bruise on her stomach.  She walked over to Harry's bed and pulled the curtain back to look at him.  He was lying on the bed with his robes cut away down to his waist.  Fading burns and bruises covered his exposed skin, Hermione bit her lip and stepped up to the bedside,

            "Are you alright?" he looked up at her.

            "Do I look alright?" he said, his voice was groggy.

            "But you will be," she put her hand on his shoulder, he winced and she took it away, "Sorry.  I didn't mean to hurt you,"

            "It's alright," he turned away and looked at the wall.

            "What happened?" he turned and glared at her.

            "You know what happened.  He beat me, Etean beat me!" he sounded really angry at himself,

            "I know, I meant how did it happen?  What did he do?"

            "He beat me, it doesn't matter how." His tone was getting angrier with every word.

            "Hey, I'm sorry, I was just asking."

            "Yeah…well don't.  It's not your problem."

            "Yes it is.  I'm your friend."

            "You want to be my friend?  Then just leave me alone, alright?" he turned away from her again.  Madame Pomfrey came back in and bustled Hermione out of the room before she could say anything else.  She walked slowly back to Gryffindor, the pain in her stomach forced her to think of nothing but Harry.  She checked her watch, it was nearly half eleven, the rest of Gryffindor would be asleep by now.  Stepping into the Common Room, she was surprised to see that she was wrong.  Ron was sitting by the fireplace, when he saw her come in he jumped to his feet.

            "Hermione, are you OK?"

            "I'm fine…were you waiting for me?" he blushed,

            "Well…I wanted to make sure you were OK," she frowned as she walked across the room,

            "You could have been waiting a while.  What would you have done if Madame Pomfrey had kept me in overnight?" Ron looked puzzled,

            "I…I don't know, I guess I didn't think about it," she smiled and sat down in an armchair, wincing as a dart of pain shot through her.  Ron bounced to his feet again,

            "Are you sure you're alright?" she waved him away,

            "Yes, I'm just a bit sore that's all.  You should see Harry, he looks awful," Ron's face darkened,

            "Serves him right."

            "Ron!" she scolded,

            "Hermione, he could have really hurt you."

            "We were duelling Ron, people can get hurt, it's just something that happens," Ron shook his head,

            "I know that but Hermione, Harry was showing off.  He went too far just to show everyone how good he is.  He didn't have to put you in hospital to beat you," Hermione sighed,

            "Maybe but you said it yourself, accidents happen.  Harry may have gone too far tonight, but he didn't deserve what happened to him.  He was burned all over, what did Etean hit him with?" Ron frowned,

            "I'm not sure.  I have never seen a duel like it.  At first Etean did nothing, he just dodged everything Harry threw at him, I've never seen anyone move that fast, then…" he paused,

            "Then?" she prompted, Ron shook his head,

            "Well…he kind of did what you did, he put up a shield.  Harry hit it with everything he had, trying to punch through.  Etean just stood there, goading Harry to hit it again and again.  Nothing Harry did made a dent, he just couldn't break the shield.  Then Etean dropped it…boom, it exploded and Harry caught a face full."  Hermione sat back and stared into the fire.

            "Yes, he really did.  So, now Etean is our duelling champion." Ron sat back and sighed,

            "Yes, at least until someone beats him that is,"

            "Right, however long that takes," they looked at each other for a moment before Hermione yawned, and then winced in pain as she stretched her stomach muscles, "I'm tired, I'll see you in the morning," she stood and turned to head up to her room.  Ron stood and stopped her,

            "Em, you sure you're alright?" she smiled and patted him on the shoulder,

            "Yes…thank you.  Goodnight."

            "Goodnight Hermione."  She left him alone and headed to bed.

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Harry was falling, there had been a sudden rush and the floor fell out from beneath him.  His instinct was to open his mouth and scream in fear but he stopped himself, it wouldn't do for him to be seen to be afraid.  A person in his position must be in control at all times.  As suddenly as it had started, the plummet stopped, he felt his knees bend slightly as he landed on solid ground.  He straightened and looked around.  He was standing in a darkened stone passageway.  There was very little light here but it was enough for him to navigate by, just.  He couldn't see very far along the passage, a heavy mist diluted what little light there was to form a thick haze in the air.  Not that it mattered, he had been told what to expect.  Harry adjusted his robes, pulled his hood closer about his face and headed forward.  His shoes made faint, rhythmical clicking sounds on the polished stone floor, he checked his pace to keep the sound constant and daunting to anyone who could hear it.

            The mist became heavier the further he travelled down the passage, the air was stale and reeked of decay and charred flesh.  The smell invigorated his senses and excited him, his pace quickened.  The stone floor of the passage ended at the base of a narrow stone staircase that climbed up into the mist.  The light was brighter above him.  Without a moment's pause, he marched up the stairs.  At the top, the haze was clearer.  Harry looked around him.  He had emerged from an opening in the ground and was standing at the base of a steep slope of ash and broken rock.  It rose up beyond his sight into the mist.  A warm, dry wind washed over him.  A wicked smile spread across his lips as he started to climb.  It was difficult going, the ash and gravel shifted beneath his feet.  The wind pouring down the slope became hotter the higher he went.  The air got thick with smoke and fumes, making it difficult to breathe.  The slope steepened, becoming near vertical.  A daunting rock edifice rose above him, further than he could see.  Just when he thought he could go no further, he noticed the steps, an ancient staircase cut into the face of the cliff.

            Harry laughed and ran over to the base of the stair and continued to climb.  There were hundreds of steps, zigzagging back and forth, higher and higher up the cliff.  Many of the steps were damaged, some crumbled beneath his feet, threatening to cause him to slip and fall to his death but he didn't slow down.  Anxiousness compelled him, he had to reach the top, he had to see it.  On and on he ran, slipping and scrambling as he went.  Several missed steps led to scraped knees and hands.  His eyes stung and his lungs burned, a wave of dizziness washed over him and he fell to his knees fighting for breath.  He shut his eyes and coughed over and over again.  A metallic taste in his mouth told him that he had coughed up some blood but that didn't stop him.  Steely determination took hold and he started to climb again.  The summit was now almost in reach, only a handful of steps separated him from his goal.  He couldn't remember ever feeling this giddy before, this was not like him but he didn't care, the sense of glee only grew within him as he reached the top.

            He reached the top of the stairs and found himself standing on a narrow ridge of rock overlooking a vast chasm of fire.  A lake of boiling lava teemed and seethed over two hundred feet below him.  In front of him, from the very centre of the inferno, a single column of stone rose up to tower above him.  Fifty feet away, a narrow stone bridge spanned the distance to the pillar, the only way across.  Harry's gaze followed the curve of the span and then travelled up to the point of the summit and upwards.  The sky above mirrored the fire below.  It was red, the deep lustre of fresh blood, he smiled at the sight.  He paused to drink in a deep, delicious breath as his eyes fixed on the pinnacle of the stone pillar.  It was fabulous, even more beautiful than he had imagined.  Without a thought for his own safety, he took off and ran across the bridge to the other side, and then ran and scrambled up the rest of the slope.

            When he reached the top, he paused to look around him.  There was a large bowl-shaped depression in the rock.  Three stone pillars leapt up from the ground, rising to support a giant crystal orb almost twenty feet above his head.  Directly beneath the orb stood a low altar, carved out of heavy black stone.  The air was clearer here, the smell of ash from below was barely detectable.  Harry stepped down into the depression, trailing his hand along the rough stone of the pillar beside him.  At the bottom, he stepped up to the altar.  It too was more perfect than he had imagined.  He ran his fingertips along the carvings on the edge, admiring the smooth flowing lines of the ancient text.  He couldn't read them, their meaning – their original meaning was long forgotten, lost in time.   This place, these carvings were the last remnant of a dead civilisation.  There was nobody in the world now who knew what the people who built this place had intended to use it for but that fact was irrelevant to him.  All that mattered was that he knew what it meant to him.  It meant the end of a journey, the light at the end of the tunnel.  After all these long years, his waiting and scheming was about to pay off.  'This is where it will happen.'  He laughed, quietly at first, and then louder and louder, he threw his head back and laughed harder than he ever remembered laughing before.  A searing pain exploded across his forehead, he grabbed his head, but continued to laugh.  The pain grew and grew as he laughed, he shut his eyes and fell to his knees.

            He woke up, the world vanished as he opened his eyes to darkness.  The pain remained, his fingers ran along his scar, it burned.  He took his hand away, expecting it to be bloodied, but his head wasn't bleeding.  There was a brief moment of disorientation as he appeared to be looking at himself sitting in the bed.  The pain faded as Etean broke off the connection, he lowered his hand and stared at Harry.  The boy seemed confused, Etean didn't blame him.  He could tell by the look on Harry's face that he was still in agony, he was still running his fingers along his scar, wincing as he touched it.  Harry lowered his hand and looked around him, Etean froze, but that wasn't necessary, Harry couldn't see him.  After a moment's pause, Etean raised his hand and waved at Harry, his eyes rolled into his head and he fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.  Etean stood, watching him for a minute more, then sighed and left, this was a complication.

            Etean strolled through the castle in silence, his mind racing.  No matter what way he looked at it, this was bad.  He had hoped that he was wrong, that the sensation he picked up on earlier was not what he thought it was, but now?  He paused as someone, a prefect stepped out into the corridor in front of him.  He turned and headed away from Etean, continuing his rounds.  Etean's attention focused on him as he shadowed him for about a hundred yards before they got to the staircases.  They separated, the prefect headed down, Etean turned the other way.  He needed to think, to clear his head.  There was only one place he could do that.  He wasn't sure how long it took him to climb to the top of the Astronomy tower, his mind was running in circles.

            Etean stood and leaned on the railing of the balcony looking out at the landscape.  There was no moon, Hogwarts grounds were blanketed in darkness, but not to Etean.  His senses extended, showing him the world as it truly was.  Magical light in a thousand indescribable colours poured from the walls of the castle, bathing the land for miles around the school in a wondrous iridescence.  He looked over to the forest, a million tiny glowing lights shuffled and bustled about, countless beings and animals going about their lives, living, breathing, fighting, hunting, killing and mating, each in their own way.  Etean reached out with his mind and touched them.  His mind divided and divided again to track them all, gradually he became aware of them all, his own consciousness faded into limbo, bringing a sense of calm.  He let himself drift for almost for a couple of minutes before drawing back.  He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before waving his hand over the railing.  A silver bowl, full to the brim with water appeared.  The surface of the water glowed faintly in the darkness, illuminating his face.  Etean gazed at his reflection for a moment before reaching down to disturb the surface.

            "Poliakov," he whispered.  The water churned and rippled for several seconds before settling.  When it did, the face reflected was no longer Etean's.  Poliakov stared up at him,

            "I was not expecting to hear from you so soon Boy," his voice was quiet and slightly distorted.  The surface shimmered as he spoke.

            "I know, but there has been a complication."

            "Complication?"

            "Yes, I have just come from monitoring a rather interesting dream that Harry Potter was having.  It appears Voldemort has beaten us to the punch yet again," Poliakov frowned,

            "What do you mean?"

            "I mean that he has found The Alter of Etheros.  He's there now, or at least he was there recently."

            "How recently?" Poliakov started to sound worried.

            "Within the last hour maybe,"

            "How is that possible?"

            "I don't know, but he was there."

            "You're certain of this?  How?"  Etean nodded,

            "I have been monitoring Potter since I arrived.  It appears that the connection between him and Voldemort is only visible when it is active, as it was earlier.  I detected an anomaly emanating from Potter.  Based on the ethereal trace, he was sharing his consciousness with Voldemort."

"Was Voldemort aware of the connection?" Etean shrugged,

"We cannot be sure, we certainly cannot rule it out.  However I doubt if it was intentional on Voldemort's part, I fail to see any possible advantage from his point of view.  It seemed as if Voldemort was exploring, just looking around the mountain, the altar, everything.  It is possible that travelling to the altar weakened his defences and Potter saw his actions by chance."

            "Even if that is the case, this is bad.  You said you monitored the dream.  Did you see which gateway he entered through?"

            "No, I only joined in after he landed on the other side.  Potter woke up before he returned," Etean pinched the bridge of his nose and straightened up, Poliakov was silent for a moment, then he leaned forward, "What do you think we should do?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, "We must continue as before," Poliakov was silent for a moment more, "We may have to shorten our timetable somewhat," Etean shook his head,

"I don't see how we can, Draco's training is too rushed as it is,"

"Well, if Voldemort is closer to completion than we believed then all we can do is…"

            "…is continue as before," Etean interrupted him, "and hope I can complete my task before the whole thing blows up in my face."  Poliakov frowned,

            "Yes, but the situation is all the more grave now.  You must be prepared to use the contingency option," Etean shook his head again,

            "I am, but I don't want it to come to that.  We have come too far to waste our opportunity here."  Poliakov was silent for a moment, deep in thought before he spoke again.

"I agree, but we must do something.  We must regain at least a portion of the initiative."

"How,"

"We must act, and act fast.  I want you to release control of the Etyar to me."

            "The Etyar?  Why?"

            "Well, there are only so many gateways that allow access to the Altar, we control some, but there are others.  They are remote, hard to get to.  We believed that they were beyond Voldemort's reach, though it seems that is not the case.  I want to reposition the Etyar to monitor all the gateways we currently don't control, hopefully we can figure out which of them Voldemort is using, maybe we can even take it from him."

            "Why the Etyar?  Wouldn't it be better to use members?"

            "Ideally yes, but using members for an operation like this would require the approval of the Council and that will take time we don't have.  The Etyar don't fall directly under their control, you can authorise me to take command and order them directly," Etean considered the situation for a moment then nodded,

            "It's not a bad plan.  Contact Dominic and fill him in on the situation.  He can organise things."

            "Dominic?  Why not Duncan?"

            "He's…unavailable at the moment."

            "Unavailable?  The Captain of the Etyar is 'unavailable'?"

            "Yes, he's on an assignment, it will require all of his attention.  Dominic is in command for the time being."

            "Assignment?  I was under the impression that he had completed his mission with the Grangers." Etean nodded,

            "He did, this is something else."

            "What?"

            "Nothing that need worry you now Old Man.  For now, consider Duncan out of the game.  Ok?"  Poliakov shook his head,

            "Fine, play your games, but he had better be available if we need him."

            "He will be, don't worry."

            "Right, well it appears I have work to do, I had better go.  Good luck."

            "And you," Poliakov's image faded from the water, Etean waved his hand over the bowl and it disappeared.  He looked up at the dark, starless sky above,

"Please Father," he whispered, "If you're up there, if you can hear me, just a little help.  Just let one thing go my way in this."  He took one more look out of the window before heading down to the dungeons.

_A/N: hey guys – thanks for all the reviews, seriously, I'm glad this story is keeping you all so amused._

_More to follow.___


	21. A Challenge

Draco was about ready to give up, studying had never been his strong point, but it was even worse with this blasted headache. The situation seemed strangely ironic to him. He had always maintained, mostly to himself, that he was more than able to do well in his schoolwork, if he made the effort, he simply never had. Now, for once he was actually trying to do his work, he was actually putting in some effort, and he was getting nowhere. Twice now he had tried to get through the reading for this stupid project with no success. He couldn't concentrate in the library, Hermione was always there. Trying to do some actual work with her around had proven impossible. He had been hours trying but he had spent the entire time daydreaming about her. Studying in the Slytherin Common Room wasn't an option either, he couldn't escape Pansy and her perpetual whimpering and moaning about his hand. The Prefect's Common Room was his last refuge. Hopefully nobody would bother him here. He had hoped to find it deserted but was disappointed to find a couple of Hufflepuff prefects inside, laughing and joking by the fire. Draco turned to leave, but hesitated. Where else could he go? He marched over to one of the armchairs and turned it so as it faced the wall, he pulled a small table over in front of it and sat down. Tuning the noise of the others out, he opened his book and started to read.

Hours passed, Draco lost track of time. Studying was boring enough but studying this stuff was worse. Arithmancy seemed to consist of nothing but complicated equations and proofs. But hey, that was nothing new, what else did he expect from a subject entirely devoted to theory? He shifted, growing uncomfortable in the chair. He lifted his arm out of the sling and worked his shoulder in circles, stretching the stiffness from his muscles. Setting his book down, he turned his attention to his right hand, squeezing it with his left. It was still almost completely numb, he could feel pressure as he squeezed, but not the actual touch. He continued to rub and massage his wrist as he tried to move his fingers. Again all his effort and concentration could only produce a slight twitch. Draco sighed and turned back to his study, his head rested against the leather of the chair and he yawned. The last thing he remembered before his eyes closed was trying to follow Dumbledore's explanation of his proof of the third level Animagus transformation.

THUMP! His eyes slammed open as someone burst into the room. He didn't have to turn round to know who it was. He recognised their voices instantly,

"What the hell were they playing at?" Weasley roared, "How could they let him get away like that?"

"Try to calm down Ron, this isn't helping," Potter answered him,

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? They had him, he was within their reach and they let him get away."

"It wasn't their fault Ron. There were only two of them,"

"There was only one of him though, they had him cornered and outnumbered, what else did they want?"

"It's not like they didn't try Ron, you heard what Dumbledore said. Kingsley Shacklebolt is in St. Mungo's for heavens sake. He's lucky Lucius didn't blow him to smithereens." Draco tensed, Lucius? They were talking about his father. What had he done now? He shut his eyes and buried his head in his hand. Still unaware of him, they continued talking,

"They are supposed to be Aurors Harry. They are supposed to be trained to deal with situations like that, with people like him."

"They are Ron. Lucius was just lucky that's all."

"Yeah," he heard Weasley sit down heavily, "Well, one of these days his luck will run out, just you wait." Before he could stop himself, Draco sighed. Their conversation stopped as they both heard the sound. 'Shit!' Draco shook his head and stood up, he yawned as he turned to face them, hoping they would believe he had been asleep, that he hadn't heard anything. It didn't work.

Weasley leapt to his feet and advanced on him, "Will you look who it is?" his face flushed red with anger, "Hiding out in here are we?"

"What do you mean?" Draco snarled at him, "I have every right to be here," Weasley moved forward again, Potter moved in front of him, blocking his path. Weasley tried to get around him, Potter had to grab hold of him to stop him.

Potter turned back to Draco, "What the fuck _are_ you doing here Malfoy?"

"What does it look like Potter?" Draco gestured with his book, "I'm studying. At least I was, it seems to be impossible to find some peace and quiet around here," Potter didn't seem to believe him,

"Pull the other one Malfoy. You _were_ hiding, listening in on our conversation. I bet you can't wait to run off and gloat to everyone about how clever your father is, about his latest escape act."

Draco scowled, "Believe it or not Potter, I have better things to do with my time than spy on you two," he turned to pick up his bag, "And," he paused, "not that it's any of your business, but I really don't care what my father does."

Weasley pulled free of Potters grip and moved to stand toe to toe with Draco, blocking his path, "You don't care?" pure rage filled his voice as he seized Draco's robes.

Potter reached out and grabbed his shoulder, "Ron…" he started but Weasley shook him off.

"No, Harry, stay out of this," he turned back to Draco, "You don't care what your father does? He attacks Harry and you don't care? He escapes from prison and you don't care?" he moved forward, pushing Draco back, "He puts Aurors in hospital and you don't care? He kills my brother and YOU DON'T CARE?" his voice had risen, he was shouting now.

Draco had had enough. Dropping his book, he shoved Weasley back as hard as he could. Weasley tripped and fell to the floor, Potter stepped forward but Draco was quicker than him, his hand flew to his pocket. He drew his wand and levelled it at Potters heart. "Don't," he fought to keep his voice level, "Now, I am only going to say this once. I am not my father. Whatever he did, or didn't do is nothing to do with me!" he turned to look at Weasley, "I really don't care what you think of me but remember one thing, I did _not_ kill your brother." Weasley sat up. He didn't speak, he just glared at Draco. Potter moved, Draco saw it out of the corner of his eye, not that it did him any good. By the time he had gotten his attention back to Potter, it was to see the business end of his wand trained at him. 'Damn!' Their eyes locked onto each other, tension filled the air, which would strike first? Neither, before either could act, the door of the Common Room opened,

"There you are Ron," Hermione sounded anxious, "you shouldn't have stormed off like that, Professor Dumble…" her voice trailed off when she saw Draco at odds with Potter, "What's going on?" the question wasn't directed at anyone in particular.

Draco answered, "Ask them," he nodded at Potter and Weasley, "They started it,"

"We didn't start anything," Potter barked, "You were the one spying on us,"

"Spying?" Hermione raised an eyebrow and stepped towards them, "You were spying?"

"No," Draco sighed, "I was studying. They came in arguing, then attacked me," he turned to look at her.

She frowned, "If they attacked you, why are you the one holding them at wand-point?"

Draco shrugged, "I am just defending myself."

Weasley stood up, his own wand in his hand, "Shut up Malfoy, I'll give you reason to defend yourself," he lifted his arm to aim it at Draco but Hermione moved over and stopped him.

"Don't Ron, this isn't the time," she pleaded.

"You should listen to her Weasley," Draco lowered his wand, never taking his eyes off Potter, ready for any movement, "She's clearly trying to save you a great deal of unnecessary pain," he turned and picked up his book, "Though I'm at a loss to know why," he stuffed the book into his bag and turned to leave. "Now, I do have work to do, and it does not look likely that I'll get it done here."

"That's it, run away," Weasley shouted over Hermione's scolding.

Draco stopped, "I am not running anywhere Weasley," he gave Weasley his most confident stare, "But like she said, this isn't the time."

"Alright then, name your time, anytime you want," Weasley stopped pushing against Hermione and stepped back, still staring at Draco with hate in his eyes.

Draco frowned, "Are you challenging me Weasley?"

Weasley puffed out his chest, "Damn right I am."

"Ron!" Hermione shouted.

Weasley glared at her, "No Hermione, this is between me and him. So," he looked up at Draco again, "when will it be then Malfoy?"

Draco looked at him feeling the familiar urge to knock his block off come back. He was tired of him staring, tired of the angry glares. He turned to face him, setting his face, "Midnight tonight…The trophy room…Just you and me."

Weasley didn't say anything, he just nodded. Hermione glared at Draco. He shut his eyes and turned away to march out of the room. Outside he headed toward the dungeons. He checked his watch, it was after nine, three hours until he was to meet Weasley. He closed a fist with his left hand, he would enjoy beating him.

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Etean ducked under a bludger then banked hard to the right, snatching the quaffle an instant before Nott could catch it. He turned and sped off toward the opposite goal with Nott and Daniels in hot pursuit. They ducked and bobbed at high speed, but neither chaser could catch Etean. He crossed the halfway line, heard the whistle blow and he stopped.

Blaise flew up, hollering at the top of his voice at Nott, "Theo, what the hell were you doing? You have to keep your eyes on the quaffle at all times. You look away for one second and it's gone," he drew level with Etean and snatched the quaffle from his extended arm. Nott hovered in front of them, Blaise hurled the quaffle at him. "Back to positions, we do it again. This time, try to get it right."

"Sorry captain." Nott's voice overflowed with sarcasm, "But, before you get into full flow lecturing me, you may be interested to know," he pointed to the stands, "we have an audience." Blaise and Etean both followed his gesture. Below them, sitting in the stands was a girl. The evening light lit up her red hair, leaving no doubt as to her identity.

Blaise scowled, "The Littlest Weasley! Spying on our tactics," Etean raised an eyebrow. Did Blaise actually think that his tactics were worth spying on? Etean reached out to Ginny, sensing how upset she was. As far as he could tell, she wasn't even aware that they were staring at her. Blaise dug around inside his robes and drew out his wand, "I'll teach her to spy on us," he aimed at Ginny,

Etean leaned over and seized his arm, "Whoa there, what the hell are you doing?"

Blaise looked confused, "What do you mean what am I doing? What are you doing?"

"I'm stopping you from hurting the girl for no reason," said Etean.

"No reason?" Blaise was close to sounding hysterical, "She's spying on us, trying to learn our tactics."

"Come off it Blaise. That doesn't make sense," Etean said as he let him go.

"Maybe not to you," Blaise retorted, "but I know those Gryffindor bastards a hell of a lot better than you do. Theo, nail her."

Etean extended his hand, without turning round he pointed at Nott, "Don't you as much as twitch," his tone was ice, Nott didn't move.

Blaise moved closer to Etean, inches from his face, "I'm the captain here, not you," he growled.

"Are you?" Etean closed the distance between them even further, "Then why don't you act like it? Focus on the team, not the spectators," Blaise held his stare for a second before backing down.

He turned and flew away, "Fine, back to positions," he roared over his shoulder. Etean watched her fly away for a moment, then looked to Nott. He was hovering in the air, staring at Etean. Etean scoffed and flew off back to his starting position, sparing a glance at Ginny.

Blaise kept them at it for another hour, they repeated the play pattern over and over until at last he was satisfied that they had gotten it right. The team left, heading to the showers, Etean paused. Ginny was still sitting in the stands, he sensed that her mood hadn't changed. He turned his back on the others, ignoring their calls and headed toward her. As he approached the stand where she was sitting, she didn't look up. From what he could sense of her emotions he wasn't surprised to see her crying. He orbited the stand once and landed behind her. She still didn't notice him, she was staring at the pitch. Etean sat behind her and leaned forward,

"Enjoying the view?" he said quietly in her ear. She jumped, startled and looked around. He smiled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Ginny wiped her eyes, "I didn't see you. How long have you been there?"

"Not long, I was out there," he nodded to the pitch, the rest of the Slytherin team were disappearing into the team tunnel, "with them."

She looked up and frowned, "Quidditch practice? I didn't know you were on the team,"

Etean shook his head, "I'm not, not really. I'm just filling in as seeker while Malfoy is hurt," her face fell when she heard the name, he paused before he spoke again, "What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking," she said quietly.

Etean smiled, "I gathered that, it's clear you have a lot on your mind."

She shut her eyes and nodded, "You could say that," she folded her arms and hugged herself.

"Your brother?" he asked quietly even though he knew the answer, she nodded again, "You want to talk about it?"

Ginny shook her head, "Not really. He's dead, there's nothing else to say."

Etean climbed down onto the seat beside her, "I don't believe that. He was your brother, you can't just dismiss his death like that," anger started to creep into her voice,

"Why can't I? Who says I can't?"

Etean drew back from her slightly, "Nobody, but it won't help, that much I can guarantee you,"

She stood up, "How do you know? You didn't," she paused, her lip quivered, "You didn't even know him,"

Etean stood beside her, "No, I didn't. So why don't you tell me about him?"

"Because I don't want to," she shut her eyes, "I don't want to talk about it OK," she turned her back on him.

Etean checked his tone, "Because you're too mad?"

She rounded on him, her voice sounded really angry now, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like I mean. He's dead and you're mad. Mad at him for dying and leaving you, mad at the Death Eaters for killing him, mad at the world for not saving him…just plain mad."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

Etean raised an eyebrow, "Don't I? You'd be surprised,"

"Surprise me then."

Etean looked at her for a moment, considering, then shook his head, "Believe me, you don't want us to start trading horror stories Ginny. But I think I know where you're coming from. I know why you're mad and I think I can help you understand why he died, if you let me."

She looked at him, tears welling up in her eyes again, "I understand fine, he died because they killed him."

Etean was silent for a moment, watching a spider crawl along the railing beside them. He turned back to her, "Things are never that simple Ginny," he paused. Quick as a flash he moved his hand and trapped the spider, "As I understand it, your brother didn't have to be anywhere near the Death Eaters during their attack, but he was, because he made a choice. He chose to try and stop them and they killed him."

"He was doing his job…his duty," her voice sounded shaky.

Etean nodded, "That's not a reason not to be mad at him, it doesn't mean he did the right thing," she opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off, "Let me tell you a story, hopefully then you'll understand what I'm trying to say," she shut her mouth and frowned at him, he took a deep breath before continuing, "When I was about four, there was…an incident in my home. One that has stayed with me ever since."

"What?"

"One day, I was playing in my room, just as any four year old does. I heard a noise and looked up. There was a man, a stranger I had never seen before, standing over me. I was terrified…I screamed. One of the guards assigned to protect me heard me scream and came in. He killed the intruder where he stood. The man fell dead less than two feet from me," Etean shut his eyes, "To this day, I can still see the look on his face as he died."

Ginny's face paled, "He died right there in front of you?"

Etean nodded, "He died because of me. Duncan, the guard who killed him was my bodyguard. His job was to keep me safe. He saw what he decided was a threat to my life and he acted."

"That's horrible…but I don't see what this has to do with Percy."

Etean carried on as if he hadn't even heard her, "I was too young at the time to understand what was going on. I didn't know why Duncan had killed him. So I was scared, terrified, terrified of strangers sneaking into my room during the night. But I was even more terrified of Duncan, he was someone I liked, someone I trusted. He was always there, at my side and now I was terrified of the man. As time passed, I grew older but I still didn't understand what had happened. My fear turned to anger, I hated him. Eventually I snapped, one day I attacked him,"

"What happened?"

Etean laughed, "What do you think? I was a ten year old kid and he was a fully trained wizard. He beat me. I thought he was going to kill me,"

"But he didn't?"

"No, he didn't. He was my bodyguard, sworn and willing to die before he let any harm come to me," Etean turned and sat against the railing. He raised his hand, still holding the spider captive in his fingers, "You see, in my head I had portrayed Duncan as a monster, it was how I had chosen to deal with the situation. Because I didn't know any better, I had painted him as a heartless killer of an innocent man."

"But he wasn't? The man he killed wasn't innocent!"

Etean smiled again, "I told you things are never that simple. After I attacked Duncan, after I realised how wrong I was, I decided to learn all I could about that man, who he was, what he wanted. His name was Antoine DeSalle. He was a small time businessman, ran a shop selling potions in Marseille. We, my family actually owned the shop, he was our tenant. Apparently he was a nice enough guy, just a bad bookkeeper. He fell behind on his rent, and my father called in the debt. He evicted Antoine, shut down his shop."

"Your father sounds like a great guy!" her tone was biting.

Etean paused, swallowing his anger then he shook his head, "He was a businessman. He didn't know Antoine, I'm fairly certain that they never actually met. Antoine was nothing more than a name on a lease to my father. But to Antoine, my father was the man that ruined him – destroyed his whole livelihood with the stroke of a quill. He decided to take his revenge on my father. That's why he broke into our house that day, to have his revenge. Not the best decision he could have made, attacking my home was almost as good as committing suicide,"

"But that means he wasn't innocent, he attacked you."

Etean shrugged, "Guilty or innocent, it isn't for you, or me to decide. Antoine was just a man that made a choice. And his choice led to a lot of people making a lot of choices. My father decided to evict Antoine, did he have to? No – but he chose to. Antoine chose to take his revenge, chose to climb into my room. Did he have to? Did he even mean to? Of all the rooms he could have chosen, he picked mine. Was that part of his plan? Was I his target or did he pick my window by accident? Who knows? And then there's Duncan – he made a choice too. He saw what he thought was a threat to my life and he chose to kill Antoine. He chose to do it right in front of me. Did he have to? No, I suppose not, maybe he could have done it another way, but he didn't. It was his choice to make and he made it. If he had chosen any other way he wouldn't have been him. That was the thing I needed to understand, and what you need to understand. People make decisions the best way they can, Percy made his choice to try and stop the Death Eaters. Was he right?" he shrugged again, "Maybe, maybe not. But it was his choice and he made it the only way he could." He lifted his hand.

"Life, all life is about choices. My father made a choice, Duncan made a choice, Percy made a choice, and now I have a choice, I can close my hand," he tightened his fingers, nearly crushing the spider, "Or, I can open it," he spread his fingers, the spider ran along them and off onto the rail again. "Percy made a choice and it got him killed. He did what he had to do. For him to do anything else would mean him not being the person he was, the person you remember." Ginny started to cry again, Etean put his arm around her, "What you need to realise Ginny, is that it's OK to be mad at him, he wasn't perfect, he was human. He made a decision that got him killed, and that hurt you…he hurt you. It's only natural for you to be mad at him, like it was natural for me to be mad at Duncan,"

Ginny looked up at him, "Are you still mad at him?"

Etean smiled and shook his head, "Not anymore. It took a long time for me to get over what happened. But, in time, I came to realise that Duncan only did what he thought he had to do. He didn't want to kill Antoine and he didn't want to scare me. Understanding that allowed me to get over the fear, and the pain faded. It will for you too."

She shook her head, "I don't think so. It hurts too much."

"Yes, I know it does, and in a lot of ways it always will. You have lost someone you love, that pain won't ever go away completely. But it will become part of you. You will learn to live with it." Etean let her go and bundled his quidditch robes around him, shivering in the wind. He looked at her and smiled, "Now, I don't know about you, but I'm fucking freezing here," he extended his hand, "Come on, let's go inside."

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Draco paced across the trophy room floor, "Where is he?"

Etean didn't look round, he continued to examine the assorted trophies and medals, "He'll be here, have some patience Draco, relax."

Draco scoffed, "Yeah right, relax. It may have escaped your attention _my lord_, but us mere mortals often have trouble dealing with our emotions. We get nervous!"

Etean straightened up and paused for a moment before shaking his head, "Commoners!" he said sarcastically.

There was a moments silence before they both laughed. When the silence returned, Etean turned his attention back the trophies. Draco smiled and checked his watch again. Weasley was over ten minutes late, he sighed and started to pace again. Etean's voice shattered the silence, "I still don't think this is a good idea."

Draco frowned, "We've been over this, I can beat him," he sounded as confident as he felt, Weasley couldn't touch him.

"Yes we have, and yes, granted, you have learned more than enough to deal with him. But that is not my point and you know it. I don't see any point in fighting Weasley, it won't solve anything."

Draco shrugged, "Maybe not, but it will make me feel good. Weasley and Potter have been getting on my nerves for years, now is my chance to shut them up once and for all."

Now Etean turned round, "Are you really that short sighted Draco," Draco frowned but Etean kept talking, "Even if you beat him, even if you wipe the floor with him, it won't change a thing. He'll still blame you for his brother's death."

"Maybe, but it will be fun. You can't tell me that you didn't enjoy beating Potter."

Etean shrugged, "A bit, but it was nothing personal. He just got on my nerves that's all. I have a problem with people who show off too much."

"Well, maybe, but look at it from my perspective. I have to do this, he…they have been getting on _my_ nerves since the day I met them."

"Potter and Weasley?"

"Yes, Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee," Etean seemed pensive, "What?"

"Well, I understand that you have a pretty large problem with them. But the way I heard it your fight was with Granger as much as it was with the other two – the Golden Trio, that's what you and the rest of the Slytherins had taken to calling them, yes?"

Draco frowned, "Yes, well…"

"Well?"

"That was before."

"Before what?"

"Before…before…Oh I don't know. Like I said the other night, everything seems different now."

Etean paused, then raised an eyebrow, "Everything except your fight with Weasley and Potter?"

Draco turned and jabbed his finger in the air, pointing at nobody in particular, "It's not me. They are the ones carrying on the fight. Weasley has been itching for a chance to attack me since we got back,"

"You're Lucius Malfoy's son Draco! Do you really blame him for that? Like it or not your father killed his brother,"

"I know that, but I have enough to worry about without carrying the blame for my father's crimes."

"You'll get no argument from me on that but…" he stopped, turning his head to the side he shut his eyes.

"What is it?"

Etean didn't answer for a moment, "Someone is coming," he opened his eyes and frowned at the door.

"Weasley?"

Etean shook his head, his frown remained, "No," he raised an eyebrow, "I believe your duel may have to wait for another time. I suggest you hide."

"What?" Draco asked but Etean didn't answer, he stepped back, disappearing into the shadows as the door opened. Snape marched in, fixing his stare on Draco and making Draco freeze with fright.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape snarled, "what are you doing here at this hour?"

"I…" Draco foundered. What could he say?

Etean's voice sounded in his head, 'You're a Prefect – on your rounds!'

"Well?" Snape prompted.

Draco shook his head and sorted his thoughts, "I'm just on my rounds Professor. Tuesday is my turn to patrol," Snape raised an eyebrow, his gaze moved about the room, staring into every shadow before returning to Draco.

"I must say Mr. Malfoy, that I am impressed with the level of effort that the school prefects are putting in this year," he placed his hands on his hips and glared at Draco, "I have just met Ms. Granger in the hallway. She too was out patrolling the corridors after hours. Now, as I just told her, even prefects must obey the rules and this is too late even for you to be out," he raised his eyebrow, "Strange for the two of you to show such vigorous dedication to your duties at precisely the same time. I hope that is all that is going on, it wouldn't do for two prefects to so flagrantly defy the school rules for," he paused, his voice dropped to a gravely bass tone, "any other reasons. Do I make myself clear?"

"P…Perfectly Professor," he shuffled in place, "I suppose I had better be heading to the dorm now."

"Indeed, I think…" Snape stopped and spun round, glaring back out the door he had entered through.

"What's wrong Professor?" Draco asked, genuinely puzzled.

Snape continued to stare out the door, "I heard…" he paused and half turned round to Draco, "What are you still doing here Malfoy? Off to bed with you." Draco jumped at the sound of his tone. He nodded and turned to leave. He exited via the other door and headed down a back staircase at top speed. Once safely away from the Trophy Room, he slowed his pace. Etean materialised beside him as they reached the dungeon level,

"That was close," Draco hissed at him, "Thanks for disappearing like that."

"Hey, you're the Prefect here, mate, not me. Besides I did try to warn you."

"You could have given me a little more time. I was sure Snape could see you for a minute there."

Etean shook his head, "No, he couldn't. But he was looking awfully hard. He has a very suspicious mind that one. I thought it best to distract him."

"I noticed, what was that all about?"

"Well," Etean shrugged, "it seems Snape doesn't exactly trust you. He was going to escort you back to the Common Room. I just gave him something else to worry about."

"What?"

"He heard a noise. He thinks it was the sound of a couple of errant students sneaking about."

"How do you do that?"

Etean smiled, they bypassed the Common Room and headed to the training room, "You're nowhere near ready to start that, first you have to get the hang of reading peoples thoughts. Communication is one thing but believe me, it's a lot tougher to put a thought in someone's head than it is to read what's already there. It's even harder to do it without them realising what you've done. As for telepathy, have you been practicing? Or were you just too busy picking fights?"

"I didn't pick any fights, and yes I did practice. All bloody afternoon, but it made my head hurt."

Etean nodded, "I know, it takes some getting used to," the training room opened at Etean's touch, "But you'll get the hang of it, then we can progress to more difficult tasks."

'More difficult?' Draco didn't like the sound of that, "Great!" he said weakly.


	22. An Early Morning

Wednesday morning dawned bright and clear, Hermione rose early.  She looked out of the window and sighed at the sight of the rising sun, probably the last nice day for a while she thought as she picked up her towel.  She was showered and dressed well before Lavender or Pavarti had even stirred.  She tiptoed her way through their room and down the stairs to the Common Room, not surprised to find it deserted.  The house elves had already been through this morning, a merry little fire burned in the hearth.  'At least someone else is awake.'  She yawned, she hadn't slept a wink all night, not because she wasn't tired, no it was all because of Harry and Ron and their stupid male bravado.

'Damn you Ron Weasley,' she thought to herself, dumping her bag onto a table and sorting through her books and notes for the day.  What was their problem?  There she was, trying to stop them getting into trouble and did they thank her?  No, they bloody didn't.  Instead neither of them were talking to her, she had even managed to distract Professor Snape long enough for them to retreat to the Common Room undetected and all they could do was accuse her of interfering.  She shook her head, 'to hell with them then,  let them get into as much trouble as they want to,' she thought.  Her eye caught on a bundled up scrap of parchment in the corner of her bag.  She pulled it out and unfolded it, scowling as she read,

'_Kiss me Draco!_' in her handwriting.  She had thought she'd destroyed all that rubbish.  Grumbling a rather nasty swearword under her breath, she scrunched up the parchment again and tossed it into the fire.  Her eyes stayed on it, watching it burn.  She watched as his name was consumed by the flames – '_Draco…_' – she shook her head, 'No, he isn't Draco, he's Malfoy.  He's as bad as the rest of them, still the same pompous git with an ego the size of a small country,' she searched the rest of her bag, checking to see that there were no other stupid notes hiding in the corners before she finished packing.  A noise from above her told her that someone in the boy's dorm was awake, she could hear them using the shower.  She turned to leave but hesitated, where would she go?  It was far too early for breakfast, the house elves wouldn't even be finished cooking it yet, and the library would still be locked at this hour.  She heard more noises from above, the sound of someone opening one of the boys' dorm doors.  Not wanting another argument with Harry and Ron, she decided not to wait to see who it was.  She grabbed her bag, pulling it closed as she exited the portrait hole.  "Now where?" she asked herself quietly,

"That's not for me to decide," she jumped and spun round as the Fat Lady answered her,

"What?" the Fat Lady covered her mouth as she yawned,

"I said I don't know where you're supposed to go," she yawned again, "this is far too early for you to have woken me,"

"What?  Oh, I'm sorry," the Fat Lady leaned her head against a railing in her portrait and closed her eyes,

"Oh, don't you worry about it dear," she said sleepily, "It is…my…job…after…" she fell back to sleep.  Hermione tried not to wake her again as she quietly headed off down the stairs.  She stepped off at the third floor level, 'maybe the library is open this early.'  The corridors were deserted, they seemed almost eerie.  Every sound echoed and reverberated off the walls.  Even the quiet click of her heels on the tiles sounded like a snare drum.  She reached the library and tried the door, to her utter surprise it opened.  Without making a sound she walked in and threaded her way through the tables to her favourite spot.  As she reached her table a thought occurred to her, 'What am I being quiet for?'  She looked around, the place was deserted, there was no real need for silence, there was no one to disturb.  Still this was a library.  Libraries had always brought an automatic sense of comfort and quiet respect to her heart the second she stepped inside.  Being silent in libraries was what you did, it didn't matter if no one could hear you.  She sat down and pulled out her potions book, 'might as well re-read the material for today,' she thought to herself.  She dumped the book on the table and yawned as she idly flipped to the correct chapter.  It seemed to be taking ages, 'how big is this book?'  She rested her head on her hand and yawned again.

Her head spun round, she thought she heard movement in the library.  She sat upright and scanned the room, searching between the shelves for the source of the noise – nothing, there was no one there.  Turning her head hurt, everything hurt, she was absolutely exhausted.  She opened her mouth and yawned again, stretching as she did.  The movement brought a sharp stab of pain in her stomach making her wince.  Beside the pain in her gut, she felt a general ache throughout her entire body, she was stiff all over.  She tried to lift her arms to stretch her shoulders but the wait of the tiny bundle in her arms stopped her.  Confused she turned her head to look down at her arms.  As she turned her head, she caught the full glare from the window, the light from the sun blinded her.  She lifted her right hand to shade her eyes, squinting in the bright sunlight.  The light vanished as the curtains were drawn across the window,

"Is that better?" a gentle voice said.  Blinded again by the sudden loss of light, she looked up at the shadow of the person who had drawn the curtains and smiled,

"Much better, thank you," her eyes adjusted, the sunlight streamed in through the rooms other window, reflecting off the golden paint that covered the walls giving the room a gentle warmth.  She had always felt safe here.  A tiny movement near her heart caught her attention, followed by a quiet gurgling sound.  Hermione looked down and adjusted the crook of her left arm to move the baby's head to a more comfortable position.  With her right hand, she carefully pulled the blanket down to let her breathe.  An overwhelming sense of joy filled her heart as she looked down at that tiny face.  She fought down the tears of happiness that welled up inside her, how could something so small be so perfect?

A hand rested on her head, gently pulling the hair out of her eyes.  She looked up as the person standing next to her bent down and kissed her on top of the head.  They pulled back, Hermione recognised her mothers face as she sat down.  She looked strange, flushed and puffy, her eyes were red from crying.  Their eyes met and she smiled as she spoke,

"You did good honey," there was the slightest tremble in her voice, she lifted her hand and wiped away a tear from her eye, "she's beautiful," Hermione looked back down at her daughter, she lifted her finger and touched her lips,

"I know, she's perfect," looking at her daughter asleep in her arms, Hermione's mind raced, and an icy fist closed around her heart.  She imagined her first word, her first step, her first spell – all the things she would never get to see.  Thinking of her daughter growing up without her broke her heart.  The tears welled up inside her again and this time they broke through as a wave of agony slammed into her.  Her teeth ground together and she shut her eyes as she fought to suppress the pain.  Her mother jumped to her feet and put her arm around Hermione's shoulders,

"Are you alright?" she reached down and took hold of Hermione's hand, "Do you want me to take her?"  Hermione shook her head, the pain started to subside, she fought to keep it from her voice,

"No, not yet," she looked up, her mother was crying as she looked down at her, biting her lip, "Just let me hold her a little longer," her mother didn't answer, she covered her mouth with her hand and nodded.  Hermione looked back to her baby.  She smiled as she opened her eyes and looked at her.  She had the most beautiful brown eyes, she frowned,

"Aren't babies supposed to have blue eyes?" she asked, she didn't mean to say it aloud.  Her mother leaned over her, running her fingers through her hair, she took a slow, shaky breath before she answered,

"I…I think they do," her voice was throaty and hoarse, "but this one's special,"

"Yes," Hermione laughed as the baby reached out and grabbed her hand, "she is," The baby gurgled as she tried to pull Hermione's finger into her mouth.  Hermione cooed at her as she felt the tiny tug.  Her mother reached down and stroked the baby's head,

"Do you have a name for her?" Hermione frowned as she looked up at her mother,

"Name?" she hadn't even thought about a name, her mother smiled,

"Yes, she needs a name," Hermione looked at her daughter.  A name?  Maybe that was the one thing she could give her, her only gift she would ever be able to give to her daughter.  She smiled, there was only one name she could give her,

"Hermione," she said quietly,

"Hermione?" her mother asked, she sounded amused,

"Yes," Hermione looked up at her mother.  Their eyes met for a moment before she smiled, tears dropping from her eyes again,

"I like the sound of that,"

"Me too…" a fresh wave of pain stabbed into her.  She groaned as it burned its way through her stomach.

"Here," her mother sounded urgent, "Let me take her," Hermione nodded, she turned round and leaned down.  The pain nearly overwhelmed her as she kissed little Hermione's forehead as gently as she could manage before her mother took her away.  She leaned back and watched as her mother walked to the far side of the room and lowered the baby into her crib.  The pain surged through her abdomen again, she shut her eyes and fought to prevent herself from screaming.

"Hermione!" she heard her mother call her name as she crossed the room.  She felt her lay her hand on her shoulder but she couldn't speak, the pain was too much.

"Hermione," she could barely hear the voice.  The pain jarred in her stomach as she was shaken.  Her eyes opened, she got a brief vision of a wooden surface rushing toward her before her head slammed into the tabletop.

A loud thud resounded through the library as her head bounced off the table.  She sat back, stars flashing before her eyes as she looked up.  Malfoy was standing over her, looking shocked,

"What?  What are you doing here?" he frowned at her,

"What do you mean, what are you doing here?"  Hermione looked around, trying to get her bearings.  She was in the library?  Yes, that was where she should be, she was here studying.  But…was that a dream?  She shook her head again, it can't have been a dream, it was too real.  She remembered it all, the room, the baby, the pain, everything.  "Are you alright?" Malfoy echoed her mother's words, 'it can't have been just a dream, can it?'  She looked up at him,

"What?" Malfoy sat opposite her at the table,

"I said are you alright?" she shut her eyes, 'Reality Hermione, this is reality here, you don't have a baby, you're sixteen for heaven's sake.'  She looked up at Malfoy,

"Yes, I…I'm fine.  I just fell asleep is all," he nodded,

"Ok then, but I'm surprised at you," he leaned back, lifting his chair onto its rear legs and smiled, "You surprised Snape too when you didn't turn up for class,"

"What?" she shouted jumping to her feet, Madame Prince shushed her sternly from behind her desk but she didn't care.  Malfoy's grin faded,

"You missed Potions," Hermione's mouth dropped open, she grabbed and pulled at her sleeve, trying to uncover her watch.  It was nearly half past ten!  Her knees buckled, she dropped heavily into her chair.  'How could I fall asleep like that?  I missed class!'  She hung her head in her hands,

"Shit, how stupid am I?"  Malfoy righted his chair,

"Hey, so you blew off a class, it isn't the end of the world," she glared at him,

"I didn't _blow off_ any class, I fell asleep," she stood up and grabbed her book.  Draco stood up as she jammed it into her bag, tearing the fabric along the seam.  Books and parchment flew all over the place.  "Shit!" she said again, louder this time.  Madame Prince stood up and barked at her to be silent.  Malfoy moved around the table and joined her in clearing the mess.  He laughed quietly, she looked up at him,

"What's so funny?" he smiled at her,

"Nothing, it's just that this is the second time in a week that you and I have been here, and it's the second time we have somehow managed to end up knee deep in your schoolwork," she didn't return his smile, she didn't see the humour in the situation.  After a moment he shrugged, "Well, it seems funny to me.  Where were you running off to in such a hurry anyway?" she scowled at him,

"To see Professor Snape," she sighed, "I need to apologise for missing class," Malfoy picked up the remnants of her bag and tossed it onto the table, he looked at her and raised an eyebrow before shaking his head,

"I don't see the point in that.  Snape isn't big on grovelling, he probably won't take it well," she grabbed the handful of parchment he was holding and dumped them onto the table,

"I have to do something, I missed class," he smiled at her,

"I know you did, so does Snape.  But you aren't the first person to skip class,"

"I didn't…"

"I know," he cut her off, "but that is what he will think, and it is certainly what he'll say.  Do you want that?"

"I have to explain, I need to find out what I missed so I can catch up," Malfoy laughed again,

"Catch up?  Hermione, you're already ahead of the rest of us.  How about you give us the chance to catch up for a change?"  She sighed,

"Whatever," They finished clearing up Hermione's stuff, she took out her wand to repair her bag then started to pack it again.

"What did I miss?" he paused, and then shrugged,

"Nothing much, we just did the preliminaries for Fracken's Potion.  It's used to…"

"To relieve pain and reduce the nerve damage caused by the Cruciatus Curse I know," Malfoy stared at her, he raised his eyebrows in a fair impression of 'I told you so', she sighed, "What do you mean by 'preliminaries'?" he shook his head,

"I mean exactly what you think I mean Hermione.  We went through the procedures for brewing the potion, how to prepare the ingredients, what to add and when etc.  Oh and we brewed up a salve that forms the basis of the main potion.  It has to sit and settle for a couple of days before it can be used," he paused and picked up her potions book from the table, "but of course you know that,"

"Yes, I know what has to be done to make the potion.  So, I do have to talk to Snape then, I need get hold of the ingredients for the salve so I can make it before the next potions lesson," she bit her lip, thinking of what she would say to Professor Snape when she asked him for the ingredients.  Malfoy dug inside his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag which he held out to her,

"Here…" he paused, looking awkward, "I…I took too much, you might as well have the extra," she took the bag and looked at it, it appeared to have all the ingredients she needed,

"Thanks," she said quietly, there was an awkward pause, which Malfoy broke,

"Yeah well…" he shifted on his feet, "Just don't make a habit of it, you mightn't be so lucky next time," Another pause, another awkward silence.  This time she broke it, she looked at her watch,

"I em, had better be going.  I don't want to miss any more classes," he nodded.  She stuffed the potion ingredients into her bag and shouldered it, he followed suit and they headed out of the library under the glare of Madame Prince.

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            Etean strolled down the corridor, paying no attention to the eyes that were following him.  He didn't like it, but he was used to people staring at him, he had long ago learned to ignore it.  He fixed his gaze dead ahead, watching the empty wall at the end of the corridor.  Then she was there, she stepped right into his line of sight.  He paused, it was little more than a half step but he paused.  'Damn it!'  The anger rose in him again.  He drew back into himself, this was getting out of hand.  He needed to deal with this and soon before it became a real problem.  He shut his eyes, clenched a fist with his right hand, feeling the pain of his fingernails digging into his palm.  The sensation focussed him, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes.  He was surprised to see Draco standing in front of him, 'How did I miss him?'

            Draco's attention wasn't focussed on Etean, he was staring down the corridor to Etean's right.  Confused, Etean reached out to see what he was staring at and bit back a curse as the mental image of Hermione flooded into his mind.  Draco still didn't notice him as he stopped in front of him.  He stood there, struggling to control his temper and waited for him to snap out of his reverie.  In the end he nudged him to get his attention, glaring at Draco as he turned to face him,

            "What?" Etean shook his head,

            "This is getting annoying Draco," Etean moved past him, headed for the stairs, Draco turned to follow him,

            "What is getting annoying?"

            "You!  Every time you get within five feet of that…girl you turn into a dithering idiot,"

            "I do not!" Etean paused and turned round,

            "Yeah?  How long was I standing beside you just now before you noticed me?"  Draco opened his mouth, but it was clear that he didn't know the answer, Etean waited for a moment, leaving him hanging before he spoke again, "Exactly, you don't know," he turned and marched down the stairs,

            "What does that matter?"  They reached the ground floor, Etean turned and headed toward the Entrance Hall, he didn't turn round as he reached out to communicate with Draco,

            'It matters Draco, because you need to be focussed on your…our mission here. You cannot afford to be distracted by anything,' he turned and rounded on Draco as the reached the main doors, 'or anyone!  Do you get that?'  Draco paused, staring at Etean.  Even without extending his senses, Etean could guess the thoughts bouncing around behind his eyes.  Draco stepped forward, meeting Etean's gaze head on,

            'Yes, believe me, I get that!  I have gotten that since this started.  And, I know that Hermione is…a distraction.  But it's not like I have all the time in the world here is it?  Now, I like being around her, I have no fucking idea why or where this came from but there it is.  I can't help it,' Etean scoffed,

            'You know what you sound like?  'I can't help it.'  Grow up Draco, this is a serious situation.  Your best chance, no your _only_ chance to survive this is if you give it everything you have.'

'Everything I have?  What do you think I have been doing?  This is my life we are talking about, you know as well as I do that I haven't a hope in hell of surviving this 'mission',' Etean glared,

'Ok Draco, I'm going to spell this out to once and for all and it's important that you listen to me because I am being deadly serious.  You need to stop believing that you are going to die, that is the best way I know to make sure that you do.  I'm not going to try to convince you that it isn't a possibility, but I guarantee you, if you don't snap out of it you will die, and what's more you will fail before you do.  You will fail and Voldemort will succeed, do you understand me?' Draco nodded, 'Good, I hope you do because, even though you claim to understand this situation, it seems to have escaped your feeble little mind that the fate of the ENTIRE WORLD is riding on whether or not you succeed.'  Etean turned and started to walk away, increasing the distance between them.  Behind him, he sensed Draco pause.  He took a deep breath and followed his thoughts for a moment before he rounded on him, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

            'Listen to me Draco,' he took a step closer to him, 'This situation is far from what I wanted it to be, but this is how it is.  Whether we like it or not, our choices have been stripped away from us one by one and now, here we are.  Here I am,'

            'You?'

            'Yes, me.  I am the one to whom The Circle entrusted the responsibility to see this plan through.  I am the one that has the job of getting you ready to do what you have to do.  I am the one who has the responsibility of determining if you are capable of doing this.  And I am the one who has to decide if you can or…'

            'If I should die,' it wasn't a question, Etean paused before answering,

            'Yes, you know what's at stake, we cannot fail.  The Circle never takes a risk as big as this without a backup plan.  If you cannot complete this task then…I have been ordered to kill you.  Kill you and lose our chance to defeat Voldemort, but we remove the threat of him ascending, it's that simple,' Draco shut his eyes and lowered his head, Etean took another step toward him.  'Now, that is a decision I have agreed to make, I gave the Council my word that, if I had to, I would make that choice.  And I never break my word Draco.  But you know what?  I don't want to have to make it.  Against my better judgement Draco, I actually like you and I want to help you,' he paused and set his hands on his hips, sparing a glance around to ensure that nobody was watching, 'So, I'll make you a deal, I will let you make the decision.  You choose whether you want to continue or give up.  But if you want to continue, if you want to more than a snowballs chance in hell of survival, you have to stop fighting me at every turning, stop believing that you are doomed to die.  Do that and in return I will guarantee you that I will do whatever I can, whatever it takes to get you ready to face what's coming,' Draco looked up, about to answer.  Etean interrupted him again,

            "Don't," he said aloud, "Think about it and make your mind up.  Let me know when you make a decision," Etean stormed off, the anger still boiling inside him, leaving Draco standing in silence on the steps.

_A/N: OK guys another noodle scratcher for ya.  Trust me though, this will make sense eventually._


	23. Thoughts Before Lunch

            Etean watched the pebble skip and bounce across the surface of the water, plink…plink…plink…splash.  He paused as his fingers squeezed the next pebble.  His eyes scanned the horizon, trying to lose himself in the endless rippling surface of the lake.  A strong wind from the mountains was whipping and chopping the water, lifting jets of icy spray from the crests of the waves.  His mind buzzed, the same thought, the same question repeated in his head over and over, 'is one life worth risking millions?'  Looking at it from the Council's point of view, it was a simple matter, one life weighted against the whole world?  Of course the decision was hardly worth considering, the only problem was deciding at what point the decision should be made.  That was their view on it.  He laughed to himself, it had been his view when this had started but now?  His head tilted back and he shut his eyes, now things were not that simple.

            He thought back to the academy, to the Council meeting where this had all started, the debate, the vote, the decision.  Looking at it now, it struck him just how cold and detached the meeting had been.  Council meetings took place in a darkened room that was, for want of a better way of putting it, a different world.  Standing there, dressed in black, shielded by impenetrable shadows and blissful anonymity it was surprisingly easy to reduce peoples lives to simple statistics.  In there, people were just facts and figures, survivors and casualties of war.  This war they had chosen to fight.  He opened his eyes and hurled the stone across the lake as hard as he could, grimacing as a muscle in his shoulder complained at the effort.  He rubbed his shoulder, the pain faded slowly as he hunkered down to pick up another stone.  His eyes scanned the horizon again,

"Don't make me kill you Draco," he whispered.  The dull ache in the back of his head grew more severe, he could feel his pulse pound in his ears.  'Concentrate Etean, get the better of this,' His teeth ground and winced as the pressure built up and the dizziness returned.  He sighed, his…condition, was becoming a problem more frequently as Poliakov had said it would.  Being surrounded by so many untrained and undisciplined wizards was taking its toll him.  He had never spent so much time around people like these, he had never been allowed to.  Still it was a simple problem, one that was easily treated.

In his mind he repeated the incantation, waving his hand in the air as he did.  His fingers closed around the goblet as it materialised.  He drank its contents in one go, the bitter taste threatened to make him gag but he forced it down.  The potion settled in his stomach and he felt the wave of heat spread out inside him as it started to work.  The pain in his head faded to a more manageable level and he stood up.  Turning his back on the endless expanse of the lake he headed back toward the castle.  As he crossed the grounds his attention was drawn to a group of students standing around in a loose circle beside the gamekeepers hut.  Curiosity got the better of him and he changed direction to head over to them.

Etean stood above them on the slope to get a better view of what they were doing.  The gamekeeper – Hagrid, was that his name? – was standing in the centre of the circle holding one end of a strong looking rope leash.  The other end looped around a wooden pillar and then attached to a…Etean stared, he didn't know what it was but it was big.  It must have been over six foot tall and that was while sitting down.  It mostly resembled an oversized bear but Etean had never heard of or seen any bear with claws the size of the ones this thing was brandishing about.  It was making wild swipes in the air, just missing Hagrid's head.  Even for a man his size, if a single one of those blows connected…Etean shook his head at the thought.  Hagrid was either unaware of or had no trouble accepting the peril he was in.  He was busy lecturing the class, using small words, about the properties of the beast.

Etean turned his attention to the class.  Most of them were rapt with attention, though their attention was not on Hagrid but rather on the thing he was holding.  They were staring with morbid terror, waiting for it to break loose and charge them.  Etean shook his head in disbelief, this was an actual class here?  His eyes paused on one student in particular.  Ginny Weasley was sitting at the far side of the class, looking at him.  Etean caught her eye and smiled, she smiled back then jumped as the beast roared.  Hagrid tugged and heaved on the rope but whatever had annoyed the thing had made it really angry.  Hagrid was fighting a losing battle to calm it down.  The class jumped and backed away.  There followed a tense moment as the thing continued to tug and pull at its rope.  Etean almost without thinking reached into his robes and drew his wand.  Finally Hagrid managed to get a better grip on the rope and, with an impressive show of physical strength he got it to sit back down, but it still wasn't happy.

"Ye'd better be going," he called over his shoulder to the class, "I don't know what's spooked him, but ol' Marvin here's in a hell of a temper," the class didn't need to be told twice, they broke and headed away.  Some of them were practically running as they headed up the hill to the castle.  Ginny hung back, moving closer to Hagrid.  Surprised by her bravery, Etean moved down so he could hear their conversation,

"Do you need any help Hagrid?" she asked quietly,

"What?" he turned to look at her, "No Ginny, you'd best be gettin away from here, I'd better see what's upset him," the creature gave another yelp and started to struggle again.  Hagrid tightened his grip on the leash but he wasn't fast enough, the beast lashed out and caught Ginny's arm, she let out a squeal as the blow sent her flying to the ground,

"Marvin!" Hagrid hollered, reaching up to grab at its collar.  Etean moved down the hill, reaching out to calm the creatures mind.  Animal minds were never easy for him to comprehend.  They were too primitive, there was always too much instinct, especially when they were mad as this thing was.  He pulled back and shook his head, it was no use.  There was only one way to deal with this.  Taking another step forward he raised his wand and launched a stunner at the creature.  The spell hit it dead in the chest and detonated, visibly slowing the thing but not stopping it.  Hagrid turned and shouted at him to stop but Etean ignored him and fired again.  This time the creature fell unconscious to the ground.

"What did ye do that for?" Hagrid roared stooping down to examine the thing.  Etean started at him for a moment,

"To stop it from hurting you," he moved over towards Ginny, "It was trying to kill you, you know?"

"No he wasn't, Marvin wouldn't hurt a fly, he was just upset is all," Hagrid stated to shake and shove the beast, trying to wake it.  Etean knelt beside Ginny, her arm was slashed open.  She pulled away as he reached out to her,

"Let me take a look," he said quietly.  She let him take her arm, he gently pulled back the fabric of her robes and frowned as he exposed the wound, "Well," he said over his shoulder to Hagrid, "It is unfortunate then that Ginny isn't a fly."  He raised his wand and held it over her wound, "This might hurt a little," she looked up at him and nodded, he lowered the tip of his wand to touch her arm and whispered, "Hippocratus," Ginny winced once as the spell repaired her arm, the wound closed leaving only the faintest trace of inflamed skin,

"Thanks," she smiled at him.  Etean stood up and offered her his hand.  She accepted and he pulled her up.  Behind him Hagrid stood up, Etean turned to see the man towering over him, Hagrid looked down at Ginny,

"Ye alrigh'?" she nodded,

"I'm OK," he seemed relieved,

"He didn't mean it," he pointed at the sleeping Marvin, "He's always been such a gentle thing out in the woods, I don't know what got into him," Etean scoffed,

"Maybe he didn't appreciate being taken _out_ of the woods," he looked down at Marvin, "or maybe he had a problem being tied up and put on display.  Not everyone likes being a spectacle," He looked up at Hagrid's massive face, "You should maybe remember that in future,"

"He's no 'arm," Hagrid sounded like he really believed what he was saying.  Etean just sight and walked away, pulling Ginny along by the hand he still held.  Once they were away from Hagrid's hut, Etean slowed his pace and looked at her,

"Are you sure you're OK?  That thing didn't get you anywhere else?" she shook her head,

"No, it was just my arm that's all,"

"Yeah, well you were lucky.  That monster could have killed.  What the hell does that oversized idiot think he's doing?"

"Hagrid is a good teacher," she pulled her hand free of his, apparently offended by his tone, "He just gets carried away sometimes,"

"That's not the way I hear it.  According to quite a few people here, he's as mad as he is stupid.  I hear he seems to enjoy playing with ridiculously dangerous creatures, the more dangerous the better," she frowned,

"They aren't dangerous," Etean looked back at the distant giant shape of Hagrid standing over the immobile beast, he shook his head,

"Maybe not to him," he looked down at Ginny's torn robes, "but the rest of us don't have his…gift for dealing with beasts like," he pointed at Hagrid, "whatever that is," he paused, "What is it anyway?"  Ginny turned around and looked behind her,

"_HE_ is a Boartha and his name is Marvin,"

"Marvin?" he raised his eyebrow, Ginny nodded,

"Yes, Marvin.  He's Hagrid's newest pet,"

"Pet?" Etean stared, Hagrid's voice drifted on the air.  He was still trying to wake the thing, "And I thought Menai was crazy,"

"Who's Menai?" Etean froze,

"What?"

"Who's Menai?" she repeated,

"Wh…Oh, just someone I know," he shook his head, "Nobody really, how's your arm?" she sighed,

"Its fine," he stared at her, "really it is," she rubbed her forearm gently, "You did a good job of fixing it," she looked over at Hagrid's hut again, "I hope you didn't hurt him with that spell,"

"That thing is big enough to crush your bones in its teeth and your worried if a stunner harmed it?" she shrugged, turning back to him,

"Apparently they're sensitive creatures,"

"And you're not?" Etean's tone became playful, "Sensitive I mean?"  Ginny smiled,

"Oh, I don't know about that.  For example," she paused for a moment, then stepped forward, laying her hand on his chest.  Etean raised an eyebrow at her, she dropped her voice to a whisper, "right now,"

"Yes?" he smiled,

"I'm starving," she grinned pushing him aside she stepped round him, turning to walk backwards along the path as she headed away from him.  Etean recovered his balance and followed her,

"Is that right?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded,

"Well, we can't have that now can we," he stepped up to her and offered her his arm, "Will you allow me to buy you lunch?" she frowned,

"Buy?  Lunch is free here," he feigned surprise,

"Is that so?" he grinned, "Excellent, then I can afford to be all the more generous.  Are you coming?" she hesitated then took his arm and allowed him to lead her towards the castle.  After a few steps she paused, "What?" he asked,

"Where are we going?" he frowned, not following her, "I mean I'm not going to be welcome at the Slytherin table and I doubt you will be at the Gryffindor one,"

"Is that so?" he tugged her forward again, "What do the Gryffindors have against me?" she shrugged,

"Nothing…well except…"

"Except?"

"Well, you did put Harry in the hospital last Friday, some of them… might have a problem with you because of that," Etean raised an eyebrow,

            "Do you have a problem with that?" she shrugged,

            "Well, I don't think that you hurt him on purpose, and besides, you didn't do any permanent damage.  All the same, some of the Gryffindors don't see it that way," Etean considered this for a moment,

"You have a point," he clucked his tongue, thinking, "Fine, we'll just have to make other arrangements then,"

"Like what?"

"I'll think of something," he grinned at her.

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            Hermione's voice wavered as she spoke the password to get past the Fat Lady's portrait.  She bit her lip, folding her arms around herself as she entered the Common Room, trying to stop herself from shaking.  Lavender and Pavarti were sitting, bent low over a table working on some chart or other but she didn't stop to talk to them.  The sunlight streaming in the window reminded her of her dream.  The image of the baby's face flashed before her eyes and brought back the sense of utter despair she had been resisting all morning.  She felt the tears rise up again for the hundredth time since she had woken up and she knew that this time she wouldn't be able to stop them.  Lowering her head, she rushed past her friends and headed up the stairs to her room.  Inside she dumped her bag and threw herself down onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow.  She shook as the dream played over again in her head.  The images flashed past rapidly, the room, the baby, her mother, the pain.  Hard as she tried she couldn't stop them.  With them was the single certainty that the dream had left her, that she wouldn't see her baby grow up.  Somewhere inside her she knew that it was only a dream, that it wasn't real, but she couldn't escape the fear and misery of losing her child.

            Hermione had no idea how long she lay there.  She wasn't aware of anything around her for a long time.  Then she felt the bed sag as someone sat beside her, a hand touched her on the shoulder and she heard Lavender's voice,

            "What's wrong Hermione?" she asked quietly.  Hermione lifted her head out of the pillow,

            "Nothing, I'm fine," she could barely even say the words, her voice wouldn't co-operate with her,

            "You're not fine, you're upset," the bad sagged again as Pavarti joined them, sitting down on the other side of the bed to Lavender,

            "Are you worried about missing Potions this morning?" she asked,

"What?" Lavender asked her,

"Dean told me.  Is that it Hermione, is that why you're crying?"  The question jarred in Hermione's mind, she had forgotten all about missing class.  She had had other things on her mind.  She shook her head,

            "No, it's not that,"

            "Then what is it?" Lavender slowly started to rub her back, "Come on, you can tell us whatever it is," Hermione sat up, facing Lavender and wiped her eyes.  She managed a weak smile before shaking her head,

            "No…it's silly, I'm just being silly," she tried to laugh but instead she started to cry again.  Lavender put her arm round her,

            "Hey, come on, it's alright.  Tell us what's wrong," Pavarti shuffled closer to her,

            "Tell us what's upsetting you," Hermione shut her eyes and lifted her head, trying to stop the tears from flowing.  Lavender gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze, Pavarti put her hand on her knee.  Hermione took a deep breath, they weren't going to quit.  She lowered her head and stared at her hands as she spoke,

            "The reason…the reason why I missed Potions was because I fell asleep in the library.  I went there to study and I fell asleep," she paused, her lip quivered, "I had…a dream," the tears started again and shut put her head in her hands.

            "A dream?" Lavender asked quietly, "What kind of dream?"  Hermione shook her head,

            "I don't know," she said through her fingers, "I've never had a dream like it.  It was so real, everything was real.  It was like it was really happening to me,"

            "What was happening to you?" Pavarti moved closer to her again.  Hermione took another deep breath and swallowed against the lump in her throat before she answered.

            "I was…lying in a bed.  I was holding a baby…my baby in my arms," Lavender's face lit up, behind her, she heard Pavarti gasp quietly,

            "A baby?  You had a baby?"  Hermione nodded,

            "A daughter," Lavender frowned,

            "But…that's good, a good dream isn't it?"  Hermione didn't really hear the question, the image of her daughters face was all she was aware of,

            "She was so tiny, so beautiful…so perfect…" she stopped talking as the tears overwhelmed her again.  Lavender gave her another squeeze,

            "Hey, stop that.  That sounds like it was a lovely dream," Hermione shook her head,

            "No," she wiped her eyes again, "You don't understand.  Something was wrong, something terrible,"

            "What?  What was wro…" Lavender stopped mid word and covered her mouth with her hand, "Was there something wrong with the baby?"

            "No," Hermione shook her head again, "With me.  There was something wrong with me.  I was sore all over.  It was like something was tearing me apart from the inside,"

            "But," Pavarti said, "If you had just had a baby, you were supposed to be sore,"

            "I know that, but this was different somehow,"

            "How do you know," Lavender smiled, "have you had a baby that we don't know about?"

            "No, of course I haven't, but…"

            "But what?"  Hermione shut her eyes and lowered her head,

            "I don't know, I don't understand it but I just know that something was wrong.  I looked down at my baby and I knew that I wouldn't be there to see her grow up, that I would be…"

            "Dead?" Pavarti asked, her voice sounded nervous.  Hermione nodded, tears flowing freely again.  Lavender pulled her into a full hug, Hermione buried her face in Lavender's robes and sobbed hard.

            "Shhh, it's OK Hermione, it was just a dream.  It was only a dream," Lavender repeated it over and over, rocking her gently on the bed.  After a minute Hermione drew back wiping her eyes,

            "I told you it was silly," she let out a tiny laugh, Lavender shook her head,

            "It isn't silly, dreams can be upsetting sometimes,"

            "What do you think it means?" Pavarti asked from behind her, Hermione turned round look at her,

            "What?"

            "What do you think your dream means?"  Hermione frowned and shook her head,

            "How should I know?  It doesn't mean anything, it was just a stupid dream," Pavarti frowned,

            "Maybe but," she turned and clambered off the bed.  She ran over to her trunk and opened it, "according to Professor Trelawney," she rummaged about in the trunk, "all dreams have meaning," she stood up, holding a book.  "We just need to find out what this one meant, it might help you understand it," She came back and dumped it onto the bed.  Hermione read the title,

            '_An Exploration of the Sleeping Mind_'

            And the author – '_S. Trelawney_', she scoffed,

            "I don't believe in all that Divination nonsense Pavarti,"

            "It isn't nonsense," said Lavender picking up the book.  She opened it,

            "Hey, this is mine!" she turned and glared at Pavarti, "I have been looking for this book all summer.  I never said you could borrow it," Pavarti smiled and blew her a kiss before pulling it from her hand,

            "I'm nearly sure you did Lavender," she said innocently, "last year sometime," Lavender scowled and pulled the book back.  She opened it on her lap,

            "Yes well," she thumbed through the pages, "I'll have it back now _thank you_.  Now let's see, babies, babies…ah here we are," She started to read, "Babies are a portent of good fortune, they signify a change for the better in your life, unless of course the dream occurs under a Saturnine moon,"

            "Oh, interesting," Pavarti chimed in, Hermione raised an eyebrow,

            "A what?" both girls looked at her,

            "A Saturnine moon!" they said in unison, "it's when the moon is in Saturn, it's a very interesting Astrological time," Lavender finished in complete seriousness.  Hermione frowned, Saturnine Moon?  Yes, this was why she had dropped the subject.  Lavender continued reading about dreams about babies, with the occasional question and comment from Pavarti.  In no time they were in full flow.  Hermione couldn't help but be cheered up by their absolute enthusiasm for Divination.  SG1 and SG2, Silly Girl's 1 and 2, that's what she had nicknamed them, privately of course and now it was obvious to her why.  They really didn't seem to notice that every third thing they said was a contradiction of something else.  Hermione actually laughed to herself as they argued about the importance of some astrological conjunction that was, or wasn't in effect.  The three of them spent the rest of the lunch break like that.

_A/N:  Ok guys this was turning out to be a long chapter so I decided to split it in half.  Here's the first bit for you._


	24. Dusty Books and Little Victories

            Draco splashed water over his face, trying to clear his mind.  He looked at his face reflected in the mirror, the face of Draco Malfoy.  He stared into his own eyes and tried for the hundredth time to figure out what was going on in his head.  He was scared, he had been since this whole thing had started.  Ever since Etean had appeared in his house, he had been faced with choices when he really had no choice at all.  Let his father continue to use him or make his own way.  That choice made, he had been given another, agree to make himself a target for Voldemort, accepting dismal changes of survival, or run and hide, accepting that he would never be truly free as long as the Dark Lord lived.  Again, that hadn't really been a choice had it?  He couldn't run, couldn't hide from Voldemort all his life, so here he was.  Draco had managed to accept his situation by giving up on his own chances of survival.  Accepting his death as an inevitable consequence of this plan had allowed him to hide from the fear.  But now even that choice had been taken from him.  Etean had spelled it out to him.  This was too important for him to fuck it up, and Etean wouldn't allow him to go into it believing he was doomed, '_that's the best way I know to make sure you do die, and you'll fail before you do._'

He bent down and splashed his face again.  So what was he going to do?  On one hand, he could give up and accept the inevitable, that he couldn't do what Etean was asking him to do.  He could accept a quick death by Etean's hand.  That thought was simple – cold, terrifying but simple.  There wasn't a single doubt in his head that Etean could and would kill him if it came to it but…he didn't want to die.  His mind touched on the alternative, Voldemort!  His thoughts stuck solid.  He had never met Voldemort but he couldn't believe that it was possible for anyone to have more fear of any single person.  How could he hope to fight Voldemort and live?  '_I will guarantee you that I will do whatever I can, whatever it takes to get you ready to face what's coming,_' Draco heard Etean's words again, did he really mean it?  Draco leaned forward, his forehead resting on the mirror, was Etean really on his side?  Could he really get him through this in one piece?  His mind filled with doubts, he had only known Etean for a couple of months and in that time he had tortured, confused and damn near killed him dozens of times.  He was powerful, Draco got the sense that he had no idea just how powerful Etean really was.  But even he didn't think he could beat Voldemort and that's what he wanted Draco to do?  How?  Thinking about it, Etean had never really explained to him just how the hell he was supposed to destroy Voldemort when the entire Wizarding World couldn't do it.  Come to think about it, he had never really been totally honest with him about anything.  In every conversation they had had, Draco had always gotten the impression that Etean had been only telling him part of the story, was that what he was still doing?  Was he just trying to manipulate Draco into playing the role that he wanted him to play?

            Draco turned and sat against the sink, confused and angry that his life had been reduced to this.  The sling around his neck snagged against the buttons of his robes.  Angrily he tugged it free then shrugged it off, tossing it across the bathroom.  He pulled the glove from his hand and hurled it after the sling.  Two full weeks had past since that night in the forest and he had given up any real hope of ever using it again despite Etean's assurances that it would get easier.  He felt slightly sick as he looked at the cold purple skin and the glaring gold bands.  The anger in him boiled over again and his teeth ground as his eyes settled on his scar.  He raised his left hand and started to trace his fingers along the line of it, feeling not the slightest sensation of the touch.  He pressed harder, digging his fingernails into his flesh but still nothing.  He gave up, the anger left him, leaving him nothing but a deep empty despair.  He shut his eyes and slammed both fists into the sink top, trying to stop himself from crying.

            Draco's eyes opened and he stared at his hand.  His fingers had closed to a fist.  He hadn't even really tried to move them, they had responded on their own.  In disbelief, he stared at his fist, willing it to move again, to respond to his thoughts and it did.  Slowly, jerkily, his fingers spread out.  Draco wasn't able to stop a tear from falling.  He watched his fingers tremble and twitch as he slowly closed a fist again.  He couldn't feel it, it was as numb as it had been, but he could move his fingers.  His lungs expanded, he felt as if a great weight had bee lifted from his shoulders.  A single movement, a tiny victory but it was something, the first ray of hope he had seen for a long time.  There was a knock at the door, some other Slytherin wanted to use the bathroom.  Draco ignored the noise and continued to stare at his hand as he slowly clenched and unclenched it.  The movement remained awkward and jerky.  It took him a full ten seconds to close his fist and about fifteen to open it but he didn't care about that, he could move his hand again!

            The door pounded again, accompanied by an angry voice.  Muffled by the door Draco couldn't identify the speaker.  Glaring at the door, he focussed his mind to sense them.  He felt the annoyed frustration from them straight away.  The emotion became cleared as the link formed and he concentrated on their thoughts.  The noise nearly deafened him, he shut his eyes and concentrated, 'a name…who are you?'

Foreign thoughts flashed through Draco's mind, too rapidly for him to make sense of them.  After a moment, through the noise a single, repeating sound became more apparent.  Draco concentrated, pushing everything else aside.  The thought sounded in his mind,

            'I am too important for this, I am Head Boy,' the door pounded again, Draco broke the connection, he knew who it was.

            "Hold on one bloody minute Anderson," Draco crossed the room and picked up his sling, but didn't put it on.  He pulled on his glove and moved to the door, opening it as Anderson pounded again,

            "About time Malfoy," Anderson snarled, "What the hell were you doing in here?" Draco scowled,

            "What do you think Anderson?  This is a fucking bathroom," he pushed forward, bumping Anderson out of the way,

            "Yeah, well you don't own the place Malfoy, this is _our_ bathroom," Draco didn't turn round,

"Whatever," he headed down the corridor to his bedroom to collect his bag before heading off to Defence class.

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Hogwarts was big, seven stories of winding corridors and passageways.  The school could easily accommodate twice the number of students that it currently housed.  It didn't prove too difficult therefore for Etean and Ginny to find an empty classroom to spend their lunch hour.  By the looks of the room, it had once been used for transfiguration lessons, but the thick carpet of dust covering every exposed surface left no doubt that it had not seen use in quite a while.

"I've never been in here before," Ginny whispered as Etean shut the door behind her,

"I don't think anyone has," Etean replied, surveying the remnants of countless spider webs intertwined between the beams of the roof, "Certainly not this century anyway," he stepped round her and waved his wand, the dust and cobwebs went flying as if caught by a sudden wind.  In seconds the room was restored to a reasonably clean state.  A second wave of his wand sent the few remaining ancient desks and chairs through the air to land in a heap by the rear wall.  A small table, set for lunch and two chairs materialised in their place.  Ginny turned to Etean, she looked impressed,

"You'd make a decent housewife!" she smirked, Etean raised an eyebrow, 'Housewife?' he crossed to the table and took off his cloak,

"Yes well," he folded his arms across his chest, "I have done my part so now it's your turn,"

"What do you mean?"

"I cleaned up, you make lunch," Ginny scowled and took out her wand,

"What is it with men and their aversion to cooking?" she shook her head as she conjured up a pile sandwiches.  'She's pretty when she's pretending to be mad,' Etean remarked to himself.  "That'll have to do I'm afraid," she said, pocketing her wand.  Etean surveyed the table and nodded.  Remembering his manners, he darted round behind her to pull her chair out as she sat down,

"Allow me Madame," he allowed the twist of a French accent play into his voice as he spoke,

"Thank You," she replied.  Etean sat down and helped himself to a sandwich.  Peanut butter and ham, an unusual combination but, he was surprised to find, not a bad one,

"Mmmm," he nodded as she looked at him expectantly, "Nice,"

"You don't lie well," she scolded,

"Au contraire ma cherie," he shook his head, "I lie very well when I have the need to.  It's honesty that I usually have trouble with.  Somehow I never seem to get it right," she looked at him for a moment before shaking her head and picking up a sandwich.  They ate in silence for a while before she spoke again,

"Where are you from Etean?" the question caught him flat footed, he paused and looked at her,

"What a question.  I thought everyone knew where I was from," she sat forward, leaning on her elbows,

"Well, I read you were French, but you don't really sound French,"

"Non?" the accent returned, she frowned,

"Well, most of the time anyway.  Your accent comes and goes.  You don't really sound like you're from anywhere, ," Etean nodded,

"It comes from years of elocution lessons, learning the correct way to speak in French, German, English, Spanish…the list goes on.  The result is that I can have any accent I want or no accent at all," he shrugged, "but I am French.  Born in Marseilles,"

"Is it nice there?"

"It has its moments, nice in the summer.  Not that I was there much to enjoy it," a stray lock of hair fell free from behind her ear as she frowned,

"Where did you grow up?" she tucked her hair back, Etean found himself wishing she hadn't.  'She'd look nicer with her hair down,' he shrugged again,

"Lots of places," finishing his sandwich, he found that he was thirsty.  He lifted his wand and conjured two goblets of wine.  Picking his up and taking a drink before continuing, "You remember Antoine?" she picked up her own goblet, it paused halfway to her mouth as she heard the question,

"Yes," she said quietly,

"Well, after that my father became sort of security conscious when it came to me.  Paranoid is a better word for it.  He had me moved around all the time, never staying put for long.  That way nobody could get near enough to hurt me," Ginny tasted the wine and made a face, clearly not used to alcohol,

"That must have been tough on you," Etean paused,

"It wasn't easy but I got used to it.  Now, staying in one place for more than a couple of weeks seems very odd to me.  I'm not sure how I'll get on here, stuck in this castle for months," he smiled at her, "I might go insane," Ginny took another gulp of wine, pulling another face,

            "This place isn't so bad when you get used to it.  I really like it here,"

            "Even with the crazy professors and the mad bears trying to tear your arm off?" she shrugged,

"At least it's never boring," she finished her wine, "I like this stuff," she looked at her empty goblet, then up at him.  Taking the hint, Etean picked up his wand and refilled it for her,

            "You should really go easy there, this isn't exactly weak stuff you know?" she took another drink, ignoring his warning,

            "So, did you travel alone or did your parents go with you?" Etean shook his head,

            "No, I travelled with various nannies and teachers.  Duncan was my only permanent companion, and you can imagine how much I enjoyed that," she nodded,

            "What about your parents?"

            "My father was a very busy man.  I saw a lot of him, don't get me wrong, but he was forever running about to meetings and other things.  The life of a politician and all that," he took another sip of wine, sensing the coming question,

            "And your mother?  Was she always busy too?" Etean lowered his goblet slowly, his expression darkened before he could hide it,

            "No, she wasn't," he paused, "she died," Ginny covered her mouth, looking horrified,

            "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know," Etean shook his head,

            "How could you?  It happened a long time ago.  I don't even remember her, not really, I wasn't even two years old at the time," Ginny leaned forward and put her hand on his,

            "I'm so sorry, what…I mean how did she die?" Etean looked at Ginny, his jaw set,

            "She…she got sick and she died," he pulled back from her, snatching his goblet and draining it, "I don't really like talking about her," Ginny nodded,

            "I know how you feel," Etean stopped himself from responding to that, 'No, that won't help here.  Move past it, talk about something else, anything else,' he shook his head and took a breath.   He refilled his wine and turned to her, her expression told him that she was stuck, not knowing what else to say.

            "So," he forced his tone to sound lighter, "rumour has it that you are quite the little Chaser?"

            "What?"

            "Quidditch?" she smiled as the change in subject broke the tension in the air,

            "Oh yeah, well I made the team anyway," she leaned back in her chair, "not too sure how good I'll be,"

            "Really?  Buy you were on the team last year though weren't you?"

            "Yeah for the last two games.  It was fun, we won the Cup," Etean nodded,

            "I thought I saw your name on the trophy.  But it said Seeker, not Chaser.  What made you change positions?"

            "I was only filling in as Seeker.  Harry is the real Gryffindor Seeker.  I had to stand in for him while he was banned,"

            "Banned?"

            "Yes," she scowled, "Umbridge banned him for no good reason, my brothers too, the vicious old tyrant,"

            "OK, so I take it that this Umbridge was not a popular person round here?" Ginny laughed,

            "No, she definitely was not.  You mean you haven't heard about her?"  Etean shook his head, Ginny rolled her eyes.  "No, of course you wouldn't have,"

            "Why is that?"

            "Well," she leaned forward and held her goblet in both hands, "you're a Slytherin.  The Slytherins liked Umbridge, they're as nasty as she was.  I bet they really miss her,"

            "Well if they do, they don't talk about her much,"

            "What do they talk about?" Etean shrugged,

            "Themselves mostly, how rich they are, how they are clearly better than everyone else, that sort of thing,"

            "Sounds fascinating,"

            "You have no idea," his voice dripped with sarcasm, they both laughed.  Ginny drained her goblet again and made a point of showing it to Etean.  "Better make this the last one," he said as he refilled it.  "So, are you a better Chaser than you are a seeker?" she paused in thought for a moment,

"Don't know," she shrugged, "I think being a Chaser will be more fun.  Seekers only get to catch the Snitch.  Chasers are in the thick of the game all the time,"

"True, but it takes some real flying skill to be Seeker, Chaser is an easier position,"

"Oh," she took another swig of wine, "easy is it?  Chasers have a lot more to worry about than Seekers.  We have to keep our attention on the Quaffle, be aware of where our team-mates are, where the opposing Chasers are and where the Bludgers are.  Seekers only have to worry about the Snitch."

"Yes but the Snitch is a damned sight harder to keep track of than any Quaffle or Bludger,"

"Yeah, OK.  You do have a point, but I still like being a Chaser more than I liked being Seeker," she frowned and looked around, emptying her goblet again, "I wonder how long it's been since there were any classes in here?"  Etean shook his head, he really had no idea.

"Good question," Standing up, he looked around the room.  Blackboards lined several of the walls.  Many were still covered in diagrams and smudged symbols.  He recognised most of them.  Transfiguration had apparently not changed much in the years since this room was in use.  His eyes traced across the diagrams and settled on a row of trunks along the wall.  Etean hunkered down and tried the lock on the first one.  Despite its age, it was surprisingly solid.  "Pass me my wand Ginny," he heard a clatter behind him.  Ginny stood up too fast and sent her chair flying.  'Mental note, this girl and alcohol do not mix,' Etean looked round at her as she walked over toward him, carrying his wand.  She tripped and stumbled, only the fact that stood up and caught her stopped her from falling flat on her face,

            "Oops," she giggled, "sorry,"

            "Right, sorry," Etean smiled, "how about we take it easy for a bit yeah?" he lowered her to the ground and took his wand from her hand, turning back to the trunk.  The lock opened and he lifted the lid, coughing as a cloud of dust hit him in the face.  When it settled he peered into the trunk,

            "What's in it?" Ginny asked behind him.  Etean reached into the trunk and pulled out a pile of tattered notebooks,

"Just a load of old report books," he replied leafing through them.  "Isn't your dad called Arthur?" Etean pulled one of the notebooks from the bundle,

"Yes, why?" Ginny shuffled round him to get a look at the book he was holding,

"Because," he handed it to her, "I think this was his," Ginny's mouth dropped open when she read the name on the cover,

"I don't believe it, it is his," she ran her free hand through her hair, pulling the bobbin from it as she did.  'Yes, definitely better with her hair down,' Etean thought as he watched her scan her fathers records.  "Oh my god!" she exclaimed, "His marks were really bad.  Look," she jabbed a finger at the open page, "he only just passed Transfiguration in third year, and he did even worse in fourth year.  I can't believe he lectured me on getting bad grades when his were like this,"

"Well, that's what parents do isn't it?" Ginny pulled some of the notebooks from him,

"I wonder if my mum's one is in here somewhere."

"What was her name before she was married?"

"Molly Prewett.  You haven't got hers there have you?"  Etean leafed through the rest of the pile, then shook his head,

"Nope, not here," Ginny crawled over to the open trunk,

"I wonder if it's in here," she grabbed an armful of notebooks from the trunk and dropped them on the floor in front of her, raising another cloud of dust,

"Thanks," Etean grumbled between coughs.  Ginny sorted through the books, they all looked identical apart from the names on them.  But none were her mother's.  Her eyes turned to the next trunk,

"Maybe her records are in this one," she dug about inside her robes and took out her wand.  She took aim and blasted the lock on the next trunk and, not bothering to open it, she moved onto the next.  Etean leaned over and stopped her,

"Do you want to search them all?" she turned to look at him,

"Do you have something better to do?"  Etean thought about it, he wasn't sure exactly what time it was but he was fairly sure it was nearly time for him to head to Defence Against the Dark Arts.  He looked at Ginny,

"No, nothing I can think of," he let go of her hand.  She kissed him quickly then grinned as she turned back to the trunks.

"Alohamora!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Draco turned the corner onto the corridor where the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was located.  Weasley was standing outside the door, without Potter for once.  His chest puffed out when he saw Draco, he set his hands on his hips and glared at him,

            "You and I have unfinished business Malfoy," Draco stopped in front of him, Weasley kept on talking before he could respond, "And we are going to settle it tonight.  And this time I don't care if Dumbledore himself tries to get in the way, nothing is going to stop me from pulverising you," he spun on a heel and was gone before Draco could say anything.  Draco paused long enough so as not to appear to be following him into the room before he entered.  The Slytherins were clustered together by one wall and the Gryffindors were by the other, Etean was nowhere to be seen.  Draco crossed to the Slytherins.  Pansy moved to allow him into the circle,

            "What happened to your sling Draco?" she asked.  He looked at her and shook his head,

            "Nothing I just didn't see the point of wearing it,"

            "But Madame Pomfrey said you were to," he sighed,

            "Yes, but that was only so I didn't accidentally hurt myself.  I don't actually need the bloody thing," she linked her arm round his,

            "I know that but…," she leaned in closer to him, "I was looking forward to playing nursemaid a bit longer,"

            "I don't need a nursemaid Pansy," undeterred by the edge in his voice, she purred,

            "Who said anything about you _needing_ a nurse?  But it's a good idea, maybe later we could…" she never got to finish her suggestion.  The door of the classroom opened and Professor McGonagall entered.  Draco turned to face the Professor, breaking Pansy's hold on him as he did.

            The Professor marched quickly up to the head of the classroom and turned to face the class, tapping her wand on the lectern for order.  When she had achieved silence she cleared her throat and addressed them,

            "Now then students, this is my turn to teach your defence classes.  For my classes, we shall focus on the tactical aspects of duelling," she started to pace across the top of the room,

"Duelling, as you shall soon see is not just about who casts the first spell, or even who casts the more powerful spell," she paused and glared as Potter made some comment under his breath, "In a lot of cases," she raised her voice slightly, "a duelling match can be over before it starts.  It all comes down to tactics, if you learn to read your opponent, anticipate their actions and prepare your response.  For those who can do that correctly, victory is all the more assured.  Unfortunately there is no certain way to teach this kind of lesson.  The only way to learn is by practicing.  To that end I have designed a series of tactical exercises that will allow you to gain experience.  The first of these we shall go through today." McGonagall pointed her wand at the floor in front of her, a white star appeared on the tiles.  She lifted her wand and pointed at an empty portion of floor beside the Gryffindors, then at a similar spot in front of the Slytherins, identical starts appeared at each point,

"The three points outline an equilateral triangle.  This exercise will be conducted in threes.  When you take part, you will each stand on one point and duel facing not one, but two opponents.  They in turn will each be facing two opponents.  The objective is simple, to be the last man standing.  Each combatant will be required to defeat both opponents.  In order to win, you will have to judge your opponents intentions, determine whether they will attack you, whether they will attack each other or whether they will simply defend and wait for you to attack them?"  She turned to the blackboard and tapped it once with her wand.  The names of everyone in the class appeared.  McGonagall tapped the board again and three names were underlined.  Draco shook his head, 'Typical,' he was up first, against Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley.  'It seems Weasley will get his chance to, what was it?  Pulverise me?  Sooner than he thought he would.'  Weasley and Longbottom took their positions, 'We'll see about that,' Draco spread his shoulders and stepped forward to take position on the remaining star.

"Now," the Professor continued, "You three know each other, you should have some idea what both of the opponents facing you will do.  You cannot be sure but you can make an educated guess," Draco tuned her out, 'Cannot be sure eh?' he couldn't stop the tiny smirk from spreading across his face as he reached out to read Longbottom's thoughts.  McGonagall's voice faded away as his attention focussed on the sound of Longbottom's mind.  He concentrated and picked out the central thought, '_Ron is my friend, so he won't attack me.  I have to get Malfoy first,_' Draco felt his smile widen as he looked at Longbottom's nervous eyes, 'Get me will you?'

His attention turned to Weasley.  He could fell the anger from him even before the connection formed.  Weasley's mind was racing so fast that Draco had to grind his teeth and focus his complete attention on him to make sense of it.  The dull ache in his temples returned as the thoughts became clearer.  '_Malfoy will attack me.  Good, I'll get him, just see if I don't.  But what about Neville?  What will he do?  He won't attack me, so he'll go for Malfoy.  Malfoy won't see Neville's spell coming, Neville will beat him, NO!  He can't do that…_'  Draco pulled back and shook his head to clear it as he heard McGonagall call for them to be ready.  He was sure he knew what was going to happen, Longbottom would go for him and Weasley…would go for Longbottom.  There was no doubt about it, Weasley wanted Draco all to himself.  He couldn't bear the thought of Longbottom beating Draco before he did.

'So, dodge Longbottom's attack, knock Weasley out and then mop up what's left,' the plan settled in his mind as McGonagall began to count,

"Three…Two…One…" he never heard her shout go.  His attention focussed on Weasley, trusting his instincts to take care of Longbottom's attack.  He felt the tug on his attention as his senses detected the threat of the incoming spell and wanted him to deal with it.  He ignored the urge to dodge as he took aim at Weasley's chest.

"Stupefy!" he roared, launching the spell.  Weasley didn't even see it coming, his attention was on Longbottom.  Draco's senses snapped his mind back to the incoming spell.  He dropped hard to one knee, allowing it to pass inches over his head as he saw his stunner connect with Weasley, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.  Before he had even hit the ground, Draco spun to aim at Longbottom.  Weasley had disarmed him, his wand lay on the floor halfway between them.  Longbottom was staring at Weasley's unconscious form, the moment's pause was more than Draco needed,

"Repulse!" he shouted, the red flash detonated on Longbottom, hurling him back into the wall and out of the duel.  Draco stood up as the Slytherin's exploded with applause.  He turned to take a bow before facing McGonagall.

"Well done Mr. Malfoy, perfectly executed though perhaps," her eyes darted to Longbottom lying against the wall with half the Gryffindors clustered round him, "a little over zealous," her tone was severe, but not harsh.  Draco merely shrugged and turned back to the still cheering Slytherins.  Pansy locked onto him with a hug and planted a kiss on his mouth before he could stop her.  McGonagall barked at them to return to order.  Draco shoved Pansy back in order for him to be able to breathe.  He turned to see McGonagall glaring at him.  "Now then, if we are quite finished Mr. Malfoy," he felt himself flush with anger, McGonagall turned back to Longbottom and Weasley and, seeing that they were alright, she carried on, tapping the board to highlight the next group.  Draco looked at the board to see Pansy's name underlined along with Hermione's and…

"Where is Robert Etean?" McGonagall asked.  Draco felt every eye turn to him, including McGonagall.  He looked around him and shrugged,

"I haven't seen him," McGonagall looked doubtful for a moment before she turned and called Goyle forward to take his place.  Draco's eyes fixed on Hermione as she took her place.  Her expression was surprisingly blank but she didn't seem nervous.  He watched as she looked from Goyle to Pansy and then back again. Draco turned to read Goyle, his slow mind opened up to reveal his intention to attack the '_little mudblood_'.  Draco didn't have to bother reading Pansy to know what she would do, he was about to read Hermione when McGonagall started the countdown and cut him off.

The duel started, Goyle and Pansy took aim and fired at Hermione.  She raised her wand and conjured a shield to protect herself.  No, it was not a shield, it was a mirror.  Draco watched as both incoming spells were reflected off it, Pansy's at Goyle and vice versa.  Neither Slytherin had the time to react to their sudden danger, both collapsed as the spells hit and knocked them out.  Hermione smiled and turned to McGonagall, the Gryffindors went berserk with glee.  To Draco, it appeared that McGonagall was allowing their celebrations to go on longer than she had let the Slytherins but he didn't care, he was too busy forcing himself not to cheer along with them.  Crabbe moved forward to pick up the unconscious Goyle, Millicent and Nott picked up Pansy.  Once they were both out of harms way and properly revived, McGonagall called the next trio.

The rest of the class passed like that, Draco couldn't stop laughing when Crabbe, Millicent and Pavarti Patil managed somehow to all knock each other out in a single blast.  Potter won his grouping, minus a lot of his prior smugness.  Losing to Etean was clearly bothering him.  For the most part, the sixth years seemed quite capable of thinking on their feet.  As the class ended and the students left, Draco hung back.  Pansy had left him alone to deal with the injured Millicent after her duel.  She had stayed away from him for the rest of the class and now he wanted to give her enough of a head start so that he would not be forced to listen to her all the way back to the dungeons.

Amongst the last out of the room, he was surprised to see Hermione waiting for him,

"There you are," she said, "I thought I'd missed you," he was taken aback, 'What?'

"Missed me?"

"Yes, I wanted to arrange for us to get together," his jaw hung open,

"What?" she scowled,

"Our project for Professor Vector, remember?  We had better get a move on or we'll never finish it," Draco had to think for a minute before he remembered the damned project,

"Oh right," he shook his head, "Sure, we probably had," she nodded,

"Well then, when do you want to meet?" he thought about it, it was a better prospect than heading back to Slytherin,

"What about now?  We're finished for the day," she paused for a moment before nodding,

"Ok then, I'll get my stuff and meet you in the library in ten minutes," Draco had an idea,

"No, not the library,"

"Why not?" seeing the confused expression on her face he thought fast, 'how do I say this right?'

"Well," he paused, "It's just that we need to talk, to discuss this project.  We can't exactly do that with Madame Prince hovering now can we?" she leaned her head to the side, thinking,

"Fair enough, so where then?" 'The Astronomy Tower?  No…too obvious,'

"How about the Prefect Common Room, it can't be too crowded in there," she shrugged,

"OK, see you there in a bit," she turned and headed off. Draco watched her go, clicking his tongue against his teeth before he too spun and marched off to get his books.


	25. Draco's Choice

            "No, I don't think that should go there," Hermione repeated for the third time.  Draco growled under his breath, this was one stubborn witch.  He took a deep breath and tried again,

            "Listen Hermione, we have to say something about Doref's work before you start talking about how Dumbledore decided to take his approach and modify it to support his own ideas.  Doref's second postulate formed the basis of every major theorem Dumbledore proved,"

            "I know that, but Doref was wrong, just plain wrong.  His theories didn't work. The changes Dumbledore made were all necessary to correct the flaws in his basic ideas.  Talking about him at the start like that will make it sound as if Dumbledore was just finishing what Doref started.  How can we say something like that?"

            "It doesn't say that at all," he closed his eyes, 'Lets try this one more time,' "We are discussing how Dumbledore came up with his theories.  Right of wrong, Doref's work was a big part of the foundations of Dumbledore's research.  We have to at least mention him in that context," Hermione shook her head,

            "I don't see why," Draco laughed,

            "You were the one who wanted to be thorough here remember?  Look this is our introduction.  We are supposed to be setting up the basis for our entire essay.  I just think we should start by giving some discussion of the background, the state of things before Dumbledore started his work.  We have to tell the story of why he started, then we can explain what he actually did,"

            "You want to tell a story?" Draco picked up the roll of parchment that they had been working on and started to read over it,

            "Yes, a story," he finished reading, "I admit, it's boring.  It lacks the mystery and suspense I normally look for in a good story.  But it's a story nonetheless," he dropped the parchment and smiled at her, she smiled back and turned the parchment round to read it,

            "So what way do you think we should tell this 'story' then?" her tone was slightly sarcastic but he ignored it,

            "Well…the first two paragraphs are fine," he pointed to the lines of text as he spoke, "it is a good idea to start by explaining why the Animagus transformation baffled wizardkind for so long and how the potential dangers involved necessitated a deeper understanding of the underlying changes that take place.  But then we have a problem, we can't just go from that to saying that Dumbledore solved the whole thing,"

            "But he did,"

            "Yes, but not alone he didn't.  There were dozens of wizards that worked on the problem for decades before Dumbledore.  We have to give Dumbledore's work its proper context, especially," he reached down and pulled up the skeleton plan of the essay that Hermione had come up with, "since you plan on going into so much detail regarding his proof later," Hermione leaned forward,

            "But we don't have room to talk about all of them.  If we try we'll end up with a dozen scrolls instead of three, so what do we do?"

            "We don't have to talk about all of them, we just have to mention them.  We can use Doref as an exemplar for the rest.  It may as well be him seeing as how we have to mention him later on anyway," Draco picked up is book and opened it to the page on Doref.  He stood and moved round to stand beside her, making it easier for both of them to follow what he was indicating, "So, we mention, briefly, that Doref was the most successful of Dumbledore's predecessors, we say that his work had flaws but we don't go into details, they come later, when we are discussing the actual proofs."  Hermione looked at the plan again, then looked back at the essay, she nodded,

            "That could work,"

"Yes, and that way when we mention Doref's postulate and the holes it leaves, it will make more sense and we won't have to bother explaining it," Hermione looked at the essay, then at her notes and finally up at Draco,

"That could be the better way to do it I suppose," Draco stood up straight and folded his hands behind his head,

            "Thank Merlin!" he said, "She finally listens," she scowled at him,

            "I always listen, Malfoy," she dropped the parchment and took up her quill, "It just happens that that is the first intelligent argument you have made all day," she stretched in the chair and paused to rub her neck before starting to scribble feverishly.  Draco realised that he too was stiff.  He checked his watch, they had been here working for over three hours.  He couldn't remember the last time he had done this much schoolwork in one afternoon.  It turned out that he had been right, properly motivated, he could do quite well in his studies after all.  'Properly Motivated?' he thought to himself, he knew what had motivated him…her!  Somehow, having her around made this pile of boring drivel seem interesting.  A slight smile forced its way on to his lips, he was enjoying himself.  This wasn't how he had planned on this afternoon going, he had had…other ideas, but it was fun nonetheless.  He yawned, stretching his arms wide.

            "Do you know how long we've been at this?" he asked.  Hermione didn't look up, she paused from her writing just long enough to glance at her watch,

            "Time flies when you're having fun," she said idly.  'What?'

            "Excuse me?" now she looked up, "Time flies?" she seemed puzzled,

            "It's an expression," she raised an eyebrow, "You haven't heard it before?" he shook his head, she smiled, "I guess it's just a muggle expression then," she shrugged and went back to work,

            "What does it mean?  Time flies when you're having fun?" she looked up again as he moved back to the table.  She opened her mouth, then paused before answering,

            "Well, it means that, when you are enjoying yourself, time seems to pass more quickly," Draco ran this through, it still made no sense to him,

            "Nonsense!  A muggle expression you say?"

            "Uh-huh, a pretty common one too," her attention returned to the essay.  Draco shook his head again,

            "I just don't understand muggles.  It's like they're a completely different species or something," he sat down, "Can I ask you something?"

            "Go on then," she kept her attention focussed on the parchment in front of her,

            "What was it like?  Growing up around muggles," she looked up and shrugged,

            "Like growing up, I don't know,"

"But it had to have been different, weird?" she shook her head,

"It didn't seem weird to me.  It was just how things were, how they were supposed to be.  Remember, growing up at home, I didn't even know about wizards or Hogwarts,"

            "Oh…right.  But now you do know, so what's it like going back…home?" she bit her lip, thinking,

            "It's…different,"

            "How?"

            "Well little things mostly.  You'd be surprised how weird it can be to live in a world without magic," Draco didn't follow,

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well, I'll give you an example.  During the summer, I was playing with Crookshanks and his claws tore one of my favourite shirts.  Nothing major, right?  Simple to fix," he nodded,

            "Yeah so?"

            "So, how do you fix it without magic?" Draco thought about it, how would you fix something like that?  He shook his head,

            "How did you do it?" she smiled,

            "I didn't," he frowned, she kept talking, "I tried, muggles have this thing called sewing, I read all about it and it seemed easy enough but…"

            "But?"

            "Lets just say I will never wear that shirt again," she laughed, another thought occurred to him,

            "Hermione?"

            "Yes,"

            "How do your parents feel?" she looked up,

            "About what?"

            "Well, I mean, they're muggles.  So…what do they think about you being a witch, about the whole wizarding world?"

            "Oh that.  They took it pretty well I suppose.  I mean I know it must have been a big shock to them at first but they got over it,"

            "And they don't…mind that you're a witch?" she shook her head,

            "Well, my dad was a bit…freaked at first.  I remember when I got my letter.  It was addressed to me so I read it first, then I showed it to Dad.  He said it was a joke, he told me it was just some silly prank my friends were playing on me.  He even burned the letter on me," Draco's eyes widened,

"Really?  So what happened," Hermione dropped her quill,

"Well, I was mad.  Something in me told me that the letter was real.  I told my mum when I saw her later that day.  I remember crying and calling Dad awful names," she laughed quietly,

"What did your mother do?"

"She told me to dry my eyes and to go out and play and forget about it.  Next day, two letters arrived.  Dad wanted to burn them again, I kicked off saying that they were mine and that they were real.  Mum got involved and they had a row.  They sent me to my room, I couldn't hear what they said, but they argued for the whole morning before they had to go to work.  After they were gone, I looked for the letters but they must have taken them with them.

"That night, they came home and sat me down.  Dad said he was sorry.  That they had checked it out, the school put stuff in the letters that go to Muggle-borns so that the parents will be able to do that, phone numbers and things,

"What are 'phone numbers'?"

"Sorry," she giggled, "I forgot.  Muggles use things called phones to communicate over long distances.  The ministry have people trained to use them.  Muggles whose children are selected for Hogwarts can call up and ask questions and things.  My dad rang up and found out that the letters were real.  He said that they had discussed it, and I could come to Hogwarts if I wanted to, and here I am,"

"But your father didn't want you to come?" Hermione shook her head,

"I think he was just worried because he didn't understand what it was all about.  Once he knew it was a real school, and that it was safe he accepted it, they both did.  They love me for what I am.  They know I'm happy here and they're happy that I am happy,"

            "They aren't worried at all?"

            "Why would they be?"

            "Well, they can't have any idea what goes on here, in this world,"

            "They're pretty OK about it really.  They know about wizards, they know they can do magic and they're pretty smart, they know that some pretty unusual stuff can happen with magic but they don't know many details, they don't know about…"

            "Voldemort," he finished for her.  She shuddered when he said the name, "Sorry, I'd forgotten how much of a reaction his name causes," she frowned,

            "How could you forget something like that?" her voice was quiet, he shrugged,

            "I just don't think about him much if I can help it.  They don't know about…him then?" she shook her head,

            "No, I didn't tell them anything.  That would scare them," he looked at her as she stopped talking.  Her face had visibly paled at the thought of Voldemort, he didn't blame her.  She shook herself and picked up her quill from the table.  Draco noticed her hand was shaking as she tried to continue writing,

            "Hey," he reached out and held her hand, "It's OK to be scared you know.  We're all scared," she looked up at him, he could see the fear in her eyes, a lump formed in his throat,

            "Are you scared of…him?" she asked, he barked out a tiny laugh,

            "Of course I'm scared of Voldemort, what do you think I am, crazy?" her face became serious,

            "No but…I mean, you're supposed to be…"

            "What?" he asked, slowly rising to his feet, leaning forward on his hands, she drew back from him, "What am I supposed to be?"

            "You're supposed to be…" she hesitated again,

            "Spit it out!" he glared at her,

            "You're supposed to be on his side!" she looked down, avoiding his eyes, "Your father is," she added quietly.  Draco lowered his head and shut his eyes.  His teeth ground together.  He felt sick.  She was just the same as all the others, she looked at him and saw Lucius' son, nothing more.  He turned and sat on the table, his eyes were drawn to his wrist.  In his sleeve he wore cufflinks bearing a rather unique design.  A silver dragon wound into the shape of the letter 'M', the Malfoy family crest.  It had always inspired him, a sign of strength and power.  That was what being a Malfoy was all about wasn't it?  It didn't make him feel strong now, now it made him feel empty.

            "I am not my father," his voice was little more than a whisper.  He heard her stand up, she moved round the table to him,

            "I know you're not…"

            "No you don't," he looked up at her, "You look at me and you see him, you see another Lucius Malfoy,"

            "No I don't, I see you," he shook his head,

"You don't act like it," he straightened up, keeping eye contact.  "Who am I?" she looked confused,

            "What?"

"It's a simple question Hermione, if you know that I am not my father as you claim to, then you must know who I am,"

"You're Malfoy,"

"That's right," he looked away from her, "I'm just Malfoy and do you know what that means?"

"No," she shook her head, "What does it mean?" Draco laughed, it sounded hollow to his ears,

"That's my point, I don't know anymore," he raised his arm so she could see the cufflink, "You see this?  I used to think this was what I was, the perfect little Malfoy.  But now…" he trailed off and shut his eyes again,

"Now what?"

"Like I said, I don't know anymore," he stared down at the Malfoy crest, "I have worn this crest every day for over two years now and I have just realised that I have no idea what it means.  I have been Malfoy all my life, it's all I know how to be.  How can I be anything else?"

"You can be anything you want to be Malfoy,"

"Can I?" he stood up and turned to face her, "We'll see about that won't we.  I do know one thing though." His voice dropped to a gravely snarl, "I am _not_ Lucius, and I am not on Voldemort's side in anything," it was true, in his heart he knew it.  But saying it aloud made it sound all the more real to him.  A cold determination settled over him, his mind was made up.  Hermione winced slightly at the sound of Voldemort's name but he ignored it, he let the silence linger for a moment before he spoke again, "Now, I think we're done here for today don't you?" she nodded slightly, "Fine then, I'll see you later," he picked up his book and headed for the door,

"Malfoy," she called out after him.  He looked over his shoulder at her,

"Yes?"

"I…I'm sorry I upset you," he sighed,

"It's hard to upset a Malfoy Hermione," he opened the door and left.

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            Etean entered the Great Hall for dinner.  His eyes instantly moved to the Gryffindor table, to one Gryffindor in particular.  There she was, resting her head on her hand, clearly the worse for wear after the afternoon.  He smiled as he headed to the Slytherin table, 'That's what you get when you drink wine like water.'  He sat down and looked over at her again, she looked back at him and smiled weakly before she yawned and shook her head.  Based on the way she grabbed her temple, Etean could tell that it hurt.  He let an expression of exaggerated mock sympathy spread across his face.  She saw him and pouted.  He shook his head and winked at her, 'Hangovers are a bitch,' he remembered.

            Pansy leaned over and said something he didn't quite hear,

            "Pardon?" he turned to her,

            "I asked if you'd seen Draco," Etean shook his head,

            "Not since this morning why?" she shrugged,

            "I haven't seen him since Defence class, he's been missing all afternoon," Etean frowned, 'A lot on his mind I'll bet,'

            "He's probably around somewhere," he shrugged and started to load his plate with chicken and chips,

            "Hey," Millicent appeared behind him and sat down next to him, "where were you for Defence class?" Etean's eyes darted to the Gryffindor table for an instant,

            "Busy," Millicent looked suspicious,

            "Busy how?" Etean laughed,

            "Just busy Millicent.  Why?  Did you miss me?" Millicent blushed,

            "No," she growled, "but McGonagall did.  I think she'll have some harsh words for you later," Etean looked up at the staff table.  McGonagall was sitting there talking to Hagrid, he shrugged,

            "I can handle her,"

            "Your funeral," Pansy added, turning her head as Draco entered, "Where have you been all afternoon?"  Draco stopped short and scowled at her,

            "Studying," Pansy and Millicent both stared at him, the snarl in his voice even made Etean look up,

            "Have a good time did we?"

            "What were you studying?" Pansy asked, Draco ignored Etean's question and glared at Pansy,

            "Arithmancy if you must know," he sat down, "not that it's your business," he picked up a fork and stabbed a hunk of chicken.  Millicent turned to Etean,

            "I guess he really did enjoy himself huh?" Etean smiled and turned back to his dinner.  Verbally, he carried on the conversation with Millicent and Pansy, mentally his mind turned to Draco,

            'What's got into you?' he sent.  Draco looked down at his plate,

            'Nothing, it's just been a weird day,'

            'Did you think about what I said earlier?' Draco looked up, chewing a mouthful of chips,

            'What do you think?' he swallowed and picked up his goblet, 'What else would I be thinking about?'

            'And?'

            'And I'm starting to think that what I want doesn't matter in this,' his eyes became colder than Etean could remember seeing them, 'Since this started people…you have been manipulating me.  Now you want to give me a _choice_?' Etean actually smiled, even telepathically, the sarcasm was almost tangible.  Etean pushed out, slowing time to a crawl.  He dropped his fork and leaned forward.

            'Yes Draco, a choice.  The only choice you, or any of us have.  Live or die,' Draco shook his head,

            'Don't give me that psychological bullshit Etean.  I know you don't care whether I live or die, I'm not that important,' Etean nodded,

            'From the perspective of the Council that's true yes.  My view on the matter is pretty irrelevant.  But the question is, is your life important enough to you for you to fight for it,'

            'OK,' Draco pointed a finger at Etean, 'If I'm going to stick with this, I want to know what you mean by fight,'

            'You know what I mean Draco,'

            'No, I want specifics.  Exactly what will I have to do?  How do you expect me to beat Voldemort?'  Etean sat back and allowed time to accelerate back to normal speed.  Perhaps he did deserve to know what he was facing,

            'OK then, I'll show you,'

            'How?  When?' Etean skewered another chip,

            'Later,' he sent, turning back to Millicent.

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            Draco was nervous.  He paced back and forth, over and over across the floor of the Training Room, waiting for Etean.  He had been waiting here for twenty minutes, was this guy ever on time for anything?  He checked his watch, it was nearly midnight, nearly time for his duel with Weasley.  He wasn't sure if it was still on, he had beaten Weasley once today already, but he had a feeling that Weasley would still want to duel.  Draco's teeth ground together.  He really wanted to smash something.  Maybe that would let him get his head straight.  The dull emptiness inside him was still there.  He shook his head.  The fact that Hermione saw him as his father shouldn't have been a surprise to him.  He had acted like a perfect little copy of Lucius for his entire life here.  Still when she had said it…

            The door opened and Etean entered,

            "You took your time," Draco snarled at him.  Etean paused, he reached into his robes, took out a small black leather book and tossed it to Draco.

            "Read it," he turned to leave,

            "Hey," Draco called after him, leafing through the book, pausing to examine a page full of magical equations that would scare Vector, "What the hell is this?"

            "The Ascension," Etean turned round, "It explains the ritual in detail, everything you need to know about what you'll have to go through,"

            "This?" Draco flipped the page again, more equations, "What the hell good will reading this do?"

            "It will let you know what's coming, you have to understand that before you can understand what will be required to do,"  Draco snapped the book shut and glared at Etean,

            "No, I want to know now what I am going to have to do," he waved the book in the air, "Never mind this bullshit.  WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?" he roared, hurling the book at Etean.  Etean raised his hand and the book stopped mid flight.  With a flick of his finger, he sent the book shooting back at Draco.  It collided with his ribcage and winded him,

            "That is what you must do,"

            "What?" Draco managed to squeak.  Etean flicked his finger again and the book shot over to land in his hand,

            "This," he held it aloft, "explains the Ascension ritual in all its glory.  This tells you what Voldemort will do to you, and what he will do to himself in pursuit of the Ascension.  And I just showed you what you will have to do to stop him," Draco rubbed his soon to be bruised ribs,

            "Throw a book at him?" Etean smiled,

            "No you idiot.  Try thinking for once, how did I throw the book at you Draco?"

            "How the hell should I know?" Etean rolled his eyes,

            "Take a wild guess," he held the book aloft, "No, better yet, take a proper look," Draco pushed his mind out, experiencing the Ethereal world.  He saw the flowing glow that was Etean's abatile.  He could see Etean's arm extended but couldn't see the book, "Now watch," Etean lowered his arm, Draco saw his abatile shift but it didn't follow his movements.  Where his arm had been, the shimmering glow remained in place.  Draco pulled his senses back, the Ether faded and he saw the book floating in the air,

            "How did you do that?" Etean sighed,

            "It's tougher than it looks, but you will learn," he flicked his wrist, sending the book flying back to Draco at a more gentle pace this time, "Telekinesis is the next stage in your training.  Once you have mastered telepathy, when you have sufficiently strengthened those mental muscles of yours, I can begin to teach you how to physically interact with your surroundings through the power of the Ether," Draco was confused,

            "How is something like that supposed to let me destroy Voldemort?"

            "Simple really, as I told you, the Circle has manipulated and controlled the fate of the world for the greater part of a millennium by knowing when to push and where.  You will defeat Voldemort by applying that very principle,"

"I don't follow you," Etean paused, clearly re-arranging his thoughts.

"Well try to follow this.  Voldemort has survived to become as strong as he is by never lowering his guard.  The entire Wizarding World has been trying to destroy him by attempting to overcome or circumvent his defences,"

"And that's not what we're planning on doing?"

"No, as is described in the book, the final and most crucial stage in the ritual will take place not in this world but in another,"

            "Another world?"

            "Yes, sort of.  We believe that it was originally part of this world but it was separated millennia ago,"

            "How?" Etean shrugged,

            "We really don't know but it doesn't really matter.  In this other world, which we call Etheros, the Ether is constantly in flux.  Power moves and discharges in a far more chaotic manner than it does here.  These massive forces are what Voldemort must channel to accomplish Ascension.  He will take you there and you will and tied to an altar," Etean looked at Draco, a mental image of a fiery mountain appeared in his mind.  It appeared that he was soaring through the air above an active volcano.  Etean continued,

"The magic involved in the final stages of the Ascension is extremely volatile.  In order to control it, Voldemort will have to create a…a sort of bubble around you," the vision, Etean's imagination of the ritual continued to play in Draco's mind.  The pinnacle of the mountain started to glow, Etean started to pace, "Now, within this barrier, Voldemort will be able to have complete control over the Ether.  He will be able to channel it to consume your soul and elevate his.  But it will take all his strength, more power than he has ever had to draw on before.  It is possible that he will be unable to create it at all,"

            "What if he can't?" Etean's eyebrows raised,

            "You'll be the first, and last to know,"

            "Oh,"

            "Yeah…oh.  Anyway we think that he will manage it alright, that is when you need to act,"

            "And do what?" Etean smiled,

            "Push him away, into the barrier,"

            "That's all?"

            "Yes," Etean nodded, "Sounds easy doesn't it, and if you can do it, it will be.  All his efforts will be on the ritual and the barrier, he won't be able to protect himself.  He will collide with the barrier and destabilise the magical forces within it.  The barrier will collapse, its energy will discharge through him, quite literally tearing his soul apart.  End of Dark Lord," The vision vanished in a blinding flash.  Draco took a deep breath, it sounded so simple, too simple,

            "It can't be that easy,"

            "Well, before you reach the final stage, you will be put through a lot," Etean pointed at the book, "That explains most of it.  You will have to endure a great deal of pain and suffering and come through it with enough strength left to act at the right moment,"

            "If I," he swallowed, "manage it, what happens then?" Etean frowned,

            "Well, then we, or rather you have a problem.  The barrier discharge will cause quite a blast, and you'll be stuck at ground zero.  If you don't free yourself and get away from there…"

            "I die," Etean nodded.  Draco shut his eyes, so that was what he had to do.  Learn to move things using nothing but his mind?  It sounded impossible.  Still three months ago, he would have said that telepathy was impossible, and that his father would never attack him.  He looked down at his hand, slowly closing a fist.  If Etean noticed his new found ability to move he didn't say.  Draco looked up to see Etean staring at him, "Do you think I'm strong enough?" there was a tremble in his voice,

            "If I didn't, I wouldn't be here.  I would have killed you the day we met in your bedroom.  You can do this Draco, and I truly believe that you are strong enough to survive it.  So," he offered him his hand, "what do you say?" Draco looked into Etean's eyes, he could see no lie there but so what?  Etean could probably sound convincing enough to make him believe anything.  But had Etean ever actually lied to him?  'Fuck it!'

            "Ok, let's do it then," he reached out and took Etean's hand.  Etean nodded,

            "I would still advise you read that book by the way," Draco looked at it, his eyes were drawn to his watch,

            "Shit!" he shouted, "I was supposed to be duelling with Weasley ten minutes ago,"

            "Again?  Didn't you beat him once already?"

            "Yes, but tell him that," he moved round Etean and headed to the door, "Are you coming?"

            "I still don't see the point of this," Etean turned to follow him, Draco shrugged as he stepped into the corridor,

            "Consider it a training exercise."


	26. A Late Night Meeting

            Draco marched in silence up the stairs and down deserted corridors.  Etean followed a pace behind him, they didn't speak.  Draco tried to force all thoughts from his head, he wanted to concentrate on the duel he was about to fight.  His teeth crushed into one another, filling his ears with an audible grinding sound.  So caught up was he that it took him several seconds to realise that Etean had stopped.  He turned to see him standing at a junction, staring down another corridor.

            "What is it?" he hissed, stepping back to him.  Etean didn't answer, his eyes narrowed in obvious concentration.  Draco followed his gaze, extending himself to try and sense whatever had attracted Etean's attention.  He could feel Etean beside him but beyond that there was nothing but chaos.  "What is it?" he repeated, "What do you sense?" It was several moments before Etean answered,

            "Something…interesting," Draco sighed,

            "Can you be a little vaguer?" Etean looked at him,

            "There's someone moving down there,"

            "Who?  Weasley?" Etean stared off into the darkness for a moment more,

            "Yes, but not the Weasley you're referring to," he moved forward, "Come on,"

            "Where?  I'm supposed to duel Weasley," Etean ignored him and continued down the corridor, melting into the shadows as his cloak hid him,

            'This will be more interesting, trust me,' he sent.  Draco looked down the corridor, then back to Etean.

            "Shit," he hissed to himself and took off, jogging to catch up on Etean's shimmering form.  He touched the tiny presence of his cloak and made himself invisible as he fell into step with him, following his lead through the corridors.  They passed the Arithmancy classroom and headed up a back staircase to emerge on the second floor from behind an ancient tapestry.  Draco felt the mental warning from Etean to be silent as they stepped out.  He instantly saw why.

            Immediately ahead of them, a shadowy figure wearing a dark travelling cloak was marching in silence down the corridor.  Etean silently stepped in behind and followed him down the corridor.  Draco paused when he realised where they were headed, this corridor led to Dumbledore's office.  Did Etean know that?

            'Yes,' the answer flowed into Draco's mind,

            'Do you have to read my mind all the time?' he asked, annoyed,

            'No, just when it's important.'  They reached the large stone gargoyle that stood guard over the entrance to the Headmaster's Office.  The person they were following paused at the statue and lowered his hood to reveal short cropped bright red hair.  Draco stepped round him so he could see his face – Arthur Weasley.

            'What is he doing here?' he sent, puzzled,

            'I don't know, that's what we're here to find out,' Arthur scratched his head,

            "What is that damned password again?" he said to himself, trying to remember it.

            'Butterscotch,' Draco felt Etean prompt him.  Arthur straightened,

            "Butterscotch," he said clearly, the gargoyle moved aside, revealing a twisting staircase.  Arthur started to climb without hesitation, Etean followed with Draco ducking round the closing gargoyle behind him.

            'How did you know that password?' he asked Etean, he heard a slight laugh in his head,

            'Draco, I have been here for almost two weeks now, there isn't much I don't know about this place.  That includes passwords.'  They reached the top of the stair, Arthur knocked once then opened the door.  Etean ducked in behind him, the door nearly collided with Draco as he entered, 'Remember, stick to the walls, in the shadows, and not a sound.  Try not to breathe if you can help it,' Etean warned him.  Draco looked around, he had expected to see Dumbledore, but the other occupants of the room came as a shock,

            "What are they doing here Albus?" Arthur's question echoed Draco's thoughts.  Dumbledore turned from attending to his phoenix to answer, but Weasley beat him too it,

            "Why shouldn't we be here Dad?  This meeting concerns us too,"

            "You are too young Ron!  You're not even a member of the Order,"

            "Not yet no, but I will be, we all will," he looked at Hermione and Harry.  They both nodded,

            "I think we deserve to be here Mr. Weasley," Hermione said, "I think we've all earned the right not to be left in the dark," Arthur was going to argue some more but Dumbledore beat him too it,

            "I realise that you have been somewhat out of the loop of late regarding the Order Arthur.  I apologise for that however, in light of recent events, I have decided that it is best to keep the children informed on all maters that directly concern them.  Therefore it makes sense for them to be present at this meeting," he looked at Potter, then at Weasley, "Besides if the past is any indication, it should be clear that it is hardly possible to keep them," he smiled at Hermione, "'in the dark' as you put it Ms. Granger,"

            "But Albus, this is Order business, where are the other members?" Dumbledore waved him off,

            "I thought it best to keep our numbers small this evening so as not to attract unnecessary attention, the others will be informed later," he pointed at the Gryffindors, "And this is their business too Arthur, they are a part of this," Draco moved closer to Etean, as if that would help conceal their presence further,

            'What is the Order?'

            'The Order of the Phoenix.  It's an organisation Dumbledore put together to fight Voldemort during his first reign of terror, he has reactivated it since his return,'

            'Oh,' there wasn't much else to say, 'Hang on, this 'Order' is supposed to be a secret yes?'

            'As far as I know,'

            'So how do you know about it then?'

            'Do you even remember what The Circle does Draco?' Draco shook his head, secret societies spying on secret societies?  Who said the world could get so complicated?  'Pay attention,' Etean snapped, 'You might actually learn something here.'  Arthur and the Gryffindors had taken seats around a low table.  Dumbledore stood at its head.  Etean moved away from Draco, he circled to the opposite side of the room, standing behind Potter.  Draco moved closer, still being careful not to make any noise he stepped up behind Hermione.  Dumbledore cleared his throat, symbolically starting the meeting,

            "Now then, seeing as we are all settled, perhaps Arthur can give us his report on recent Death Eater activities," he gestured to Arthur.  He looked at his son, then at Potter.  Finally he shook his head and started to speak,

            "Well Albus, I wish I had better news to report,"

            "Things are not going well?"

            "In many ways they are going too well.  We thought that our biggest problem was going to be finding the Death Eaters,"

"But it wasn't?" Potter seemed confused,

"No, instead of lying low, the Death Eaters have stepped up the frequency of their attacks, and they're getting more daring, taking less and less care to avoid confrontation.  In the past three weeks they have mounted over three dozen raids varying in scale from one on one assassination attempts to large scale confrontations.  Far from us not being able to locate them, it's almost as if they want us to find them," he stopped speaking and rubbed his chin, Draco noticed a fair growth of stubble, "We get word of their movements and we jump them.  There's a battle and they scatter only to reappear somewhere else," he sighed, "We have been flat out for over three weeks, the entire Ministry has been drafted in to assist.  We are even giving serious consideration to training our secretaries to fight.  Still, with all our efforts.  We have yet to actually catch any of them,"

            "There have been casualties?" Dumbledore asked.  Arthur paused, looking at the students again, then nodded slowly,

            "Five Aurors dead, three more in St. Mungo's,"

            "Five dead?"

            "Who?"

            "How?" the questions flowed from Potter, Weasley and Hermione at the same moment.  Dumbledore raised his hand for silence,

            "Listen, you have the right to be here, I have already said that but you must allow Arthur to speak," he turned back to Arthur, "I have heard about Dawlish and O' Neill, who were the others?"

            "Connely, Stephens and Oxbridge.  They chased Bellatrix Lestrange into what they thought was a deserted warehouse.  Turns out it wasn't quite as deserted as they had hoped.  Six Death Eaters ambushed them…it wasn't a pretty sight,"

            "I don't imagine it was.  Has there been any change to the pattern of their attacks?" Arthur shook his head,

            "No, so far their attacks all appear random, chaotic.  They seem to be hitting out in all directions at once, but with no discernable pattern. Today for example, they murdered a potions dealer in Coventry,"

            'Damien Ashcroft,' Draco heard the thought from Etean, it almost sounded like he hadn't meant to send it, Arthur continued,

            "Then they attacked a retired Quidditch player and his wife in Newcastle, both were killed,"

            'Alfred Minder and his wife…Emily,' Draco looked over at Etean and tried to read him.  It was never easy to be sure what Etean was feeling, but now he seemed edgy,

            "There was no connection between the two that we can find, no reason why either should have been targets, let alone both in such a short interval,"

            'Was there a connection?' Draco sent, he could sense Etean looking at him,

            'Yes,' he sent, the thought was little more than a whisper, 'us!'

            'The Circle?'

            'Yes,'

'Were they members?'

'Minder was a member but it's been years since he was active.  Ashcroft wasn't a member but an informant, though he never knew it.  He dealt in some pretty rare things, some possibly dangerous potions, we contacted him under the guise of a large European supplier, got information about what amounts of what things he was selling and, through our own investigations, who he was selling them to,'

            'But, why would the Death Eaters attack them?  How could they have known?'

            'I don't know Draco, it is possible that this is merely a coincidence,'

            'Do you believe it is?' Etean didn't respond.  The silence was his answer.  Draco didn't believe in co-incidence and he got the impression that Etean didn't either.  Draco turned back to the conversation, Potter was speaking,

            "So…what are the Ministries plans in the long term?  You can't just keep running about like headless chickens.  You'll never win that way,"

            "We don't have a choice Harry, we have to be seen to be fighting…You Know Who.  It's the only way to prevent a mass panic,"

            "But you have to plan, come up with some sort of strategy if you want to beat Voldemort," everyone at the table winced except Potter and Dumbledore,

            "Don't say his name," Weasley growled,

            "For fuck's sake Ron…"

            "Harry," Hermione interrupted him, "mind your language," Potter glared at her,

            "I'm sorry if I offended you Hermione, but I'm sick of this being afraid of his name bullsh…nonsense.  How can you expect to win this war if you won't even say the name of your enemy?"

            "I know, but…it's hard,"

            "No it's easy, listen…V o l d e m o r t!" he said it very slowly, causing another round of winces,

            "Please Harry," Arthur said.  Potter scowled and stood up.  He turned, narrowly missing Etean and started to stalk round the room as Dumbledore spoke,

            "You have a point Harry, there is a need for a more effective strategy.  We must start to act, not react as we have been to Voldemort's," more winces, Potter growled under his breath as he passed by Draco, "attacks.  I have discussed this with the Minister on several occasions over the summer,"

            "What did he say?" Hermione asked, Dumbledore said,

            "He said, quite correctly that we need to know more about our enemies goals before we can plan an effective strategy.  That is why his primary order to the Aurors has been to capture the Death Eaters alive so that we can attempt to extract some information from them,"

            "But so far, you haven't been able to?" Hermione asked Arthur, he shook his head,

            "They seem to always be one step ahead, like they know ahead of time where we'll be and what we'll do,"

            "Maybe they do," Potter added, the sound of his voice made everyone, including Draco look at him,

            "What did you say Harry?" Dumbledore asked, Potter shrugged,

            "Maybe they have someone in the Ministry who is feeding them information,"

            "A double agent?" Hermione asked, he nodded,

            "Why not?  We do," Arthur frowned,

            "What do you mean Harry?"

            "Snape!  He's been spying on Voldemort," wince, "for the Order,"

            "Yes, but a spy within the ministry?  I don't believe one could exist undetected," Dumbledore cleared his throat to regain the floor,

            "It is a possibility I have considered, but I do not believe that it is very likely.  It is far more probable that the Death Eaters have just been lucky.  They for the moment have all the initiative and while their attacks may appear random, I do not believe for one second that that is the case.  I have known Voldemort," shudders all round, "for a long time and I believe that he never acts without careful consideration and planning.  Our task is to figure out his plan, so that we can counter him,"

            "Good luck!" Weasley barked sarcastically,

            "Do you have something to say Ron?" his father asked him.  Weasley paused,

            "How are you planning on figuring out…His plan?"

"Like I said, when we capture some of the Death Eaters and get them to talk…" Potter and Weasley both scoffed, "Have I missed something?" Arthur started to sound angry,

"You won't be able to break the Death Eaters Dad.  They are far more afraid of Vol…" he hesitated, "Of You Know Who than they are of anything the Ministry will do to them, I mean it's not like you are going to kill them or anything is it?"

"Of course not but…"

"But they know that," Potter interrupted, "They know you won't do anything to them that even comes close to what he will do,"

            "The Ministry has rules Harry," Dumbledore's expression darkened,

            "Well, maybe it shouldn't," Weasley looked up, staring Dumbledore in the eye, "We can't let ourselves be forever bound to some dusty old rulebook.  If all they do is get in the way…"

            "What are you suggesting we do Ron?" Arthur's expression was serious, even more so than Dumbledore's,

            "I'm suggesting that we do whatever is necessary to beat…him, if that means we break a few rules along the way then so be it," Arthur opened his mouth to respond but Hermione spoke first,

            "The rules do not get in the way Ron, they are all that separates us from the Death Eaters.  If we start to act like them, then we become them,"

            "I am nothing like them Hermione," Weasley was becoming agitated, Dumbledore's voice boomed in the room, shutting everyone up,

            "This discussion is pointless," he turned and fixed Weasley with a look that made Draco nervous even from where he stood at the far side of the room, "For what it is worth, I agree with Ms. Granger.  The rules, that you would have us so readily set aside are not just words written in some dusty old rulebook, they are principles by which I have lived my life and by which I will continue to live my life for as long as I draw breath," the silence was deafening in the room as Dumbledore finished speaking.  He held his cold stare into Weasley's eyes for a moment, then he smiled, breaking the tension,

            "That said, we must do something.  There are other avenues to explore,"

            "Like what?" Hermione asked, Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of his face as he sat back,

            "Of late, the Minister has been considering seeking international help to aid in our current situation,"

            "International?"

            "He has been making subtle enquiries into the viability of an international alliance to fight Voldemort.  In his view, the governments of France and Germany would be willing to help us, given the right conditions,"

            "Help us how?" Weasley asked,

            "Our primary problem at present is a lack of resources, specifically personnel.  We are fighting an enemy that is both skilled and elusive.  They are mobile, free to move and hide at will, while we are burdened by our position, by the places and people that we are bound to protect.  Our European neighbours could provide us with the additional numbers that would allow us the freedom to act that we sorely need,"

            "They could at that," Arthur sounded excited, "the French Aurors are about the best trained security wizards in the world," he sat back, "I'm sorry to say it, but ten French Aurors are worth twenty of ours,"

            "They're that good?"

            "Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, "I once was allowed to tour their primary training facility.  It was quite impressive.  Over the last several years I have urged the Ministry to adjust the standards of training for our Aurors to bring us on a par, but to no avail,"

            "So, what are they waiting for?  Why not just call up the French and have them send over the troops?" Potter sat down, Dumbledore leaned forward,

            "Politics,"

            "Politics?" Potter and Weasley echoed in unison,

            "Yes, right now things on an official level between our government and those of our European neighbours are not too friendly.  The rather unfortunate confusion surrounding the Tri-Wizard tournament meant that it didn't help cement relations as it was hoped it would and," he sighed, "they saw the Ministries initial denial and eventual reversal concerning the return of Lord Voldemort," again the winces, "as an attempt to cover up the truth, to deceive them and prevent them from learning the true nature of the threat that they, that we all face,"

            "But we," Hermione hesitated, "I mean that isn't what the Ministry was doing, they really did believe that…that Voldemort," she shuddered even as she said the name, "hadn't returned at all,"

            "I know that Ms Granger, but it will take time to convince them of that,"

            "Let's just hope that we have the time to spare," Arthur added,

            "Here, here," Dumbledore rose from his seat and clapped his hands, "Now, what I said earlier notwithstanding, I believe that it is time for you three to head to your beds.  Arthur and I have other things to discuss.  Things that are," he raised his voice to cut off Potters objection, "not for you to hear.  Now, off you go," The three Gryffindors leapt to their feat to argue the point some more, none louder than Potter.  The fire in his voice surprised Draco.  Etean moved over to him, his voice in his head drowned out the others,

            'We should go now as well,' Draco was surprised by this,

            'Why?  Surely we stand to learn more by staying here,'

            'Maybe, but one of the first lessons any good spy learns is when to get out of the way,' he moved to stand by the doorway.  Draco felt the mental imperative to stand beside him and he complied.  Arthur crossed and opened the door.  Hermione, Potter and Weasley, still arguing were ushered out of the room.  They created enough of a fuss for Draco and Etean to leave ahead of them.  Draco heard them grumble and bicker amongst themselves as he headed down the corridor.  He followed Etean, the sound of the argument died away as they marched in silence to the training room.  Inside, Etean became visible again and turned to Draco.

            "So," he said, "What did we just learn?" Draco sighed,

            "Not as much as we could have had we stayed.  I still don't see why we left when we did.  Surely they were just getting to the good stuff,"

            "Like what?"

            "Like…oh I don't know.  But the more private the conversation the more sensitive the information they would discuss don't you think?"

            "It stands to reason, but I don't think it was worth the risk,"

            "What risk?"

            "When the three others had left, Dumbledore and Weasley Senior would be the only two in that room.  In that situation, the odds of one or both of them noticing us would have gone up tenfold.  These cloaks can hide us from Dumbledore, but only just.  But believe me it wouldn't take much for him to realise something was out of place had we stayed,"

            "But it would have been worth the risk?"

            "How so?"

            "Maybe it would have told us what the Death Eaters are actually up to,"

            "They did tell us that,"

            "Yes, but what else are they talking about?  What other details do they know that they didn't share?"

            "Oh, Weasley Senior shared more than he realises.  Definitely more than he intended to," he tapped the side of his head, Draco remembered just how hard it was to keep something from Etean,

            "Like what?"

            "Like what he and Dumbledore had left to discuss,"

            "And, what was it?"

            "Boring stuff, personnel deployments, mission updates.  Nothing critical from our perspective," Draco nodded,

            "Why didn't you just say that?" Etean smirked,

            "That wouldn't have been any fun," Draco scowled, then a question occurred to him,

            "Was it true what they said about the French?"

            "What?  That they are better trained than the English Aurors?"

            "Yes, that and the part about them not helping for political reasons," Etean nodded,

            "Yes," he sighed, "in fact, Dumbledore of understating the problem.  You see, in political terms, Europe really boils down to three countries, England, France and Russia.  The other nations are all hangers on.  Now, you can probably imagine that this has led to a degree of rivalry between the three," Draco thought back to the Tri-Wizard tournament and to the meetings and dinners he had attended with Lucius in the summer preceding it.  He remembered listening to dozens of stuffy old wizards all hawking for one school or another – Durmstrang, Beaubatons or Hogwarts.  According to his father, the divisions between the three largest and most prominent magical academies in Europe mirrored the political divides between Russia, France and England.

            "Yes," he said, "I can."

            "Good, now because of this, and because of the political debacle that surrounded Voldemort's return, any alliance of any kind is going to be thorny at best,"

            "But, doesn't The Circle control the governments of Europe?"

            "Yes and no,"

            "What does that mean?"

            "It means that while we do have some influence over their decisions, we can't make their minds up for them…not easily anyway.  Certainly, any attempt to engineer a decision of this magnitude at the current time would be extremely difficult," Draco frowned, something didn't make sense,

            "But…wouldn't stopping Voldemort be worth the effort?"

            "Certainly, but the alliance that Dumbledore was proposing won't destroy Voldemort,"

"Why not?"

"Because Draco, destroying the Death Eaters won't finish him.  In fact, it will prevent us from destroying him, maybe forever," Draco shook his head,

"I don't see how?" Etean nodded,

"I know you don't so let me explain.  You see, you are making the same error in judgement that Dumbledore and the Ministry are making,"

            "Am I?"

            "Yes.  Right now, the Death Eaters and the Aurors are equally matched, engaged in a battle that neither side can win easily.  Both sides are however completely committed, thus restricting their freedom of movement in other areas.  We need them to stay like that,"

"Why?"

"Because from our perspective, this is actually a good situation.  It means that the Death Eaters are prevented from causing any real damage,"

"Apart from killing Aurors," Etean paused and looked at him,

"Yes, that is…unfortunate but the Aurors stand a better chance of surviving a confrontation with the Death Eaters than your average witch or wizard does," Etean rolled his head to one side and scowled, "An unfortunate side effect of this strategy it that as a result, the Aurors and indeed the entire Ministry staff involved are as you saw Arthur Weasley – exhausted.  In balance, the same is true of the Death Eaters.  It is our hope to ensure that this situation continues, hopefully long enough for us to succeed in our plan," the penny dropped in Draco's head, he finally understood,

"You have been making them fight haven't you?" Etean nodded,

"Yes, but not as you think.  We, our members have been monitoring the movements of the Death Eaters and, in many cases, been in a position to tip off the Ministry in time for them to thwart the Death Eaters' attacks," Etean started to pace round the room, "Now, if the alliance goes ahead as proposed, with or without our assistance, the Ministry will instantly have the resources to destroy the Death Eaters, and they will do it in short order.  They will not however destroy the Dark Lord,"

            "No?"

            "No, think about it.  He will simply disappear when he believes he is incapable of achieving his goals.  He will run and hide, licking his wounds until he is ready to come back.  Upon his return, he will raise another army of followers and start this all over again," Draco shook his head,

"I don't see how he could.  Who would follow him after he has been defeated once?"

"Once?  This is his second war Draco, he has already lost once and look where we are now.  As for who would follow him, I can name a dozen people in this school who would in a heartbeat,"

"Students?"

"Yes, Slytherin students in particular fit the profile of those who would follow the Dark Lord.  Shit, half of them have parents that already do,"

"Like me?"

"Yes but you are different.  You are strong enough to make your own way to whatever goal you want to set for yourself," he jabbed his finger in the general direction of the Slytherin dorm room, "They on the other hand are not.  They have all the ambition, all the greed, but none of the strength.  Not one of them can gain the power they desire alone.  Voldemort could offer it to them, well a counterfeit of it at least.  He is smart, he knows how to play to peoples' weaknesses," he stopped and leaned against the wall, "No, it won't be much of a challenge for him to rebuild his support base and attack again.  That is why we are attacking now, because at that point whenever it is, we may not be in as good a position to oppose him as we are now," Draco scratched his head, Etean really thought like this?

"Yes," he answered the thought, "I do and so do the Council.  You would not believe how long we have spent thinking this through.  We chose this course because we had to, because it may be the only way,"

            "Right.  So, what did we learn tonight then?" Etean stretched and folded his hands behind his head,

            "We learned that Voldemort has learned something about The Circle, and that may be a problem,"

            "How big of a problem?" Etean shook his head,

            "Not sure," he sucked on his tongue, "His attacks on Minder and Ashcroft are confusing.  Ashcroft couldn't have told him anything and neither could Minder,"

            "Why not?  Voldemort could have broken them," Etean shook his head again,

            "No, Ashcroft never knew anything to tell him in the first place.  Minder was obliviated, retired Circle members always are to ensure that they cannot reveal any sensitive information, he couldn't have broken even if he wanted to.  The question is why he attacked them," Draco shrugged,

            "They weren't the only ones he attacked.  It is possible that it was just a weird co-incidence.  Maybe he just hit them at random,"

            "Maybe, but I don't think so,"

            "But it is possible.  I mean if he knows about The Circle, why hit only them?  How many members could he have hit?  How many could have given him more useful information?" Etean sighed and closed his eyes,

            "A few," he shook his head and yawned, "But, that isn't my concern,"

            "No?"

            "No, I have enough to deal with training you.  I'll inform the others, they can investigate any possible security breech, if there is a problem they'll find it,"

            "How will you contact them?" Etean yawned,

            "There are ways," he shuddered, "but right now I'm headed to bed.  This has been a long day."

_A/N: Yippee Horray and Hallelujah.  Sorry guys but I feel like celebrating.  This chapter, for those of you that haven't noticed marks the 100,000 words mark.  Cheers for all the reviews, it appears that I have well and truly got some of you hooked.  People keep asking me to reveal things about the story, but be patient, we will get there – eventually.  Seriously if you guys knew what was coming, how much I have left to tell, you'd probably quit your day jobs to keep reading, I know I've been tempted to a few times :-)_

_PS: I just realised that the last four chapters have all happened on the same day – morning, lunchtime, afternoon, and now night. Etean wasn't wrong when he said it was a long day!_


	27. A Letter from Narcissa

A chaotic burst of flapping and screeching from the ceiling signalled the arrival of the morning post. Draco absent-mindedly scanned the flock of owls as they descended into the Great Hall, there wouldn't be any post for him, who would send it? He noticed Potter's snowy owl battle its way through with a delivery for him and scowled, returning his attention to his breakfast. Oatmeal was possibly the most boring breakfast he could have, he hated it but it was all he felt he could manage so he forced it down his throat. He yawned, he had hardly slept all night,

"Politics," he snarled,

"What did you say?" Pansy's voice sounded in his ear making him jump. He hadn't noticed her sit down,

"Nothing, I was just thinking aloud," he turned back and dug his spoon into his oatmeal,

"What's wrong Draco?" Pansy purred in his ear,

"What?" he glared at her, she drew back slightly but not far enough so he sat up straight,

"You look depressed,"

"I'm just tired, that's all. And I wish those stupid birds would stop making such a racket," he gulped down another mouthful, nearly biting through the spoon in the process. He was aware of Pansy watching him for a moment before she turned to her own breakfast. There was a louder flutter of wings, he looked to see Ardent, his owl landing in front of him carrying a package. 'What the?' he reached out and united the small box from the bird's leg. Ardent pecked at his oatmeal once then, apparently not impressed with it, he turned his attention to Pansy's bacon,

"Shoo," she waved him back, Ardent clucked his beak at her and hopped out of the way, "Bloody bird," Pansy moaned, "What's in the box Draco?" Draco didn't answer immediately, he just stared at the box. He didn't need to open it to know what it was, he had received dozens of packets just like it over the years. It was a box of sweets, from his mother. In the past she had always sent them to him, or at least she had had the staff send them. He couldn't help but smile, something from his old life still survived. Pansy repeated the question, he turned to her,

"Oh just a care package from home…from Mother," he pulled at the straps and opened the box to reveal the sweets he had expected to find. Sitting on top of them was a note, neatly folded and sealed with wax. He dropped the box and took out the note, noticing Pansy stealing a sweet as he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment,

"News from home?" Etean's voice was light, he sounded unconcerned as he sat down opposite him. Draco looked up,

"A letter from my mother,"

"Oh yes," Etean reached out and stroked Ardent's head, "How is she?"

"What?"

"Your mother? A delightful woman if I recall correctly,"

"You know Draco's mother?" Pansy jumped in,

"Oh yes, she and his father were both regular guests at our annual summer ball," Draco frowned, Etean had switched smoothly back into smarmy lord of the manner mode,

"So, how is she?" Etean raised an eyebrow at him. Draco shrugged, 'May as well play along,' he thought to himself,

"She's fine as far as I know. I actually haven't spoken to her in a while,"

"Well," Etean said as he loaded his plate with bacon and sausages, "give her my best," he looked at Draco. There was no doubt that he understood what was going on in Draco's mind. A letter from his mother was almost certainly to do with Lucius. Either he had put her up to it or he knew about it, either way he was involved.

"Have you had any word from home lately?" he asked. He wanted to hear Etean's opinion, his real opinion concerning the letter. But carrying on the polite conversation was preferable to communication at the moment, tired as he was. Etean shrugged,

"Actually no, I haven't," he bit off half a sausage and swallowed it before he continued, "Not that I'm worried, it's not like there is anyone there that would write to me,"

"Nobody?" Draco raised an eyebrow,

"No, not really. The only people there are staff these days and they can pretty much take care of things by themselves,"

"You don't have any family or friends?" Pansy asked,

"Oh I have family, my grandfather lives in Poland and I have a couple of cousins dotted around," he shrugged, "we just don't usually write to one another," Draco looked up as Blaise appeared behind Etean. He dropped a scroll of parchment into his lap,

"Here, study this before practice tonight," he ordered and marched off, stopping beside Nott and Daniels to deliver similar scrolls before leaving the hall,

"What is that?" Draco asked as Etean unrolled the parchment,

"Quidditch stuff. It looks like Blaise has come up with another radical new set of tactics for us to master," his voice sounded scornful. He set the parchment down between the two of them, spreading it out so Draco could see. Draco's eyes followed the complicated pattern of lines and swirls. Tiny pictures of players with numbered labels danced about following the lines, occasionally obscured by the notes that Blaise had added to explain some manoeuvre or other. Draco watched the number seven, the Seeker as he shot about, running interference for the Chasers,

"What is he doing? You can't tie up the Seeker with stuff like that, he's supposed to be hunting for the Snitch," Etean sighed,

"I know, but tell Blaise that. He seems to think that the 'traditional' role of the Seeker is wasteful, chasing the Snitch the whole time. He believes that using the Seeker sort of like an extra Chaser on certain plays is a better idea," Draco heard Pansy mutter,

"Quidditch!" under her breath as she turned to the conversation between a couple of the fifth year girls beside her,

"That's nuts. It would leave the other Seeker free to catch the Snitch at will," Etean nodded,

"I have told him that, but he won't listen. It interferes with his 'plans' for the team,"

"What plans?" Etean shrugged,

"He seems to have gotten it into his head that if he can manage to beat, cajole and coax the rest of the team into doing things his way, that it will guarantee us the Cup this year, and he'll go down as some sort of Slytherin legend,"

"By letting the other team catch the Snitch?"

"Like I said, he doesn't listen," he sat back and sighed, "How did I ever let you talk me into being on this blasted team?" Draco swallowed another mouthful of oatmeal,

"I don't recall you putting up that much of a fight mate,"

"No I suppose I didn't. Still it isn't like its forever or anything, how's the hand?"

"Better," he held it up and slowly clenched a fist, "Sort of anyway,"

"Good, you'll be back on the team in no time. And I won't have to put up with," he grabbed the scroll and rolled it up, "this crap anymore. Come on, we'll be late for Transfiguration."

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"There you are Mr. Etean," McGonagall's sharp tone spun Etean round, stopping him in his tracks, Draco paused then, seeing McGonagall glaring at him, carried on into the classroom,

"Hello Professor," Etean used his most sincere voice, "I'm glad I ran into you before class,"

"Are you?" she stepped up to him, "And why would that be?"

"I wanted to apologise, I understand that you were teaching the Defence class that I missed yesterday. I'm sorry about that,"

"Are you indeed?" she set her stance, preparing to berate him, "And just why did you miss my class?"

"I…" he paused and put on a sheepish smile, "I'm a little embarrassed actually, you see I fell asleep,"

"Asleep?" she puffed her chest and pursed her lips, apparently not taking being asleep as a valid excuse,

"Yes, you see, I wasn't feeling well…I had a headache. I went to my room at lunch to lie down and I just fell asleep. It was nearly dinner time before I woke up,"

"Is that so, well if you are ill, perhaps you should visit the Infirmary?" Etean shook his head,

"No, I'm fine now, I must have just been tired," he gave her his most sincere look, "It won't happen again Professor, I promise you that," McGonagall nodded,

"Yes, well see that it doesn't. I don't care what your title is _Mr_. Etean, you will obey the school rules," Etean nodded and tried to look chastised,

"I understand Professor," she marched around him into the classroom, "Thank you," he called after her. Once she was out of earshot, he added, "You acerbic old bat."

Etean followed McGonagall into the room and shut the door behind him. Dumping his bag, he dropped into his seat beside Draco,

"What did she want?" Draco asked,

"To grill me for missing class yesterday," he looked under the desk and pulled his book from his bag, "Anyone would think it was the end of the world or something," He dropped his book onto the desk and flicked through it as McGonagall read the role,

'We had better have a proper chat,' he sent to Draco,

'I was just going to say that,' he saw Draco rub his temples as he answered, 'I got a letter from _home_ this morning,'

'You said that. Interesting was it?' Draco seemed confused,

'I don't know. In five years my mother has never once written to me. She sends me sweets and cakes pretty regularly but never one letter. Today,' he pulled out a crumpled scrap of parchment and showed it to Etean under the table, 'I get this,' Etean took the parchment and read it,

'_Draco,_

_ I hope this note finds you well. I am sorry we were unable to see one another over the summer but circumstances…well I'm sure you understand the circumstances well enough that I need not explain them to you._

_ I am troubled by your apparent absence from home throughout the summer. Jenkins informs me that you left for a holiday in __Paris__ shortly after you arrived home from school and that you failed to return before term started. He was concerned enough to contact me, uncharacteristic for him don't you think? I have assured him that you must have been having too much fun to return home, but something tells me that I do not know the full story._

_To be honest I am worried about you Draco, I feel we should talk, face to face as it were, in private. I wonder if you could arrange to be alone by the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room tonight (Thursday) at __1 a.m.__ I don't believe that I should say more in this letter, I hope to see you tonight._

_ Narcissa_

_X'_

'Well?' the question floated into Etean's mind as he finished reading,

'Interesting,' he responded, answering his earlier question himself, 'What are you going to do?'

'I was just about to ask you the same question,' Etean raised an eyebrow and looked at Draco out of the corner of his eye,

'Why ask me? She's your mother,'

'Yes, but don't you think Lucius put her up to it?'

'To what end?'

'I don't know but this feels wrong, she never writes to me, never,'

'Have you ever spent an entire summer apart before?'

'No…what does that have to do with it?' Etean smiled,

'She's your mother Draco. Mothers worry whenever their children show the least sign of growing up. I think it could be that not seeing you over the summer has upset her and she just wants to know you're OK,'

'If she is then this is the first time,'

'You don't think it's at least possible?' Draco shook his head slightly,

'So you don't think this has to do with Lucius then?'

'I didn't say that Draco, I don't know him or your mother as well as you do. It is possible she is acting in accordance with some plan of his, some…'

'Trap!' Draco interrupted, Etean nodded as he turned his book to the page McGonagall had just instructed,

'That could be it I suppose,'

'So what do I do then?'

'Like I said, that is your choice Draco, you can either talk to her or not talk to her. It's up to you,' Draco rubbed his temples again and shut his eyes. Etean heard him take a deep breath,

'What would you do?' Etean paused,

'I have never liked to deprive myself of knowledge. If it is as you suspect, if this letter is part of some plan that your father has dreamed up, then it is certainly better that we know it. It is possible that talking to your mother, gauging her responses will allow you to figure the plan out, and _then_ figure out how to defeat it,' there was a pause as Draco considered this, then he nodded,

'Fine, so I talk to her. Can we arrange to have the Common Room deserted?' Etean shrugged,

'Shouldn't be too hard, not many people will be up at that hour anyway. Right,' he deliberately raised the volume of his thoughts, making Draco jump, 'to business,'

'Business?'

'Yes, you need to work on your telepathy. We need to strengthen your mind and there is only one way to do that,'

'Yes I know, practice, practice, practice,'

'Precisely, so here's what we are going to do. I give you a target, and your job is to tell me what they are thinking about at that moment. Got it?'

'Yes, I got it so who's the target?' Etean scanned the room. Who would he choose? Not Potter, he had quite impressive mental defences, a trained Occlumence he was not but reading him was still difficult. Draco wasn't nearly ready for that challenge yet. His eyes rested on the back of Hermione's head and he bit back a curse, resisting the urge to actually touch her mind – who knew what he would find there? What would it do to him? What would it do to her? Besides, he shook his head slightly, Draco's fixation with her would cloud the contact, his own thoughts would get in the way. So who then? His eyes moved to the end of the row, to Neville Longbottom. Perfect,

'Longbottom,' he sent to Draco. Beside him he felt Draco prepare and then extend himself. He watched as the mental link formed and Draco struggled to read Longbottom's mind. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he fought to sift through the random noise to a discernable thought,

'He's thinking about Potions class,' Draco sent eventually, he relaxed, slumping into his seat, 'He's worried about messing up again, he thinks that Fracken's potion is too complicated for him to ever get it right,' Etean extended himself and lifted the thoughts from Longbottom's mind,

'Well done Draco, correct. Now,' he reached out again and gently derailed Longbottom's chain of thought, sending him down another mental pathway, 'Read him again,'

'Longbottom again?'

'Yes, his thoughts have changed, what is he thinking now?' Again he felt Draco tense, he saw him raise his finger and rub his left temple. He didn't have to sense him to know he was in pain, telepathy always hurt at first. Draco struggled but it didn't take him quite so long this time,

'Now he's wondering if his grandmother will send him the extra socks he forgot to pack,' Etean nodded,

'Correct, two for two,' he gave Neville another mental shove, 'Do it again,'

'Again? Why Longbottom all the time?'

'Your goal is to become comfortable with reading the minds of others, but you must get used to doing it first,'

'But I can do it, I read Weasley and Longbottom during the duel yesterday, and I used what I saw to beat them,'

'Yes, you did. Well done by the way. But the fact remains that you still have a long way to go. Repeatedly reading the same person is the easiest way to increase your mental strength, and that is our primary concern. Later we can work on the flexibility you will need to easily read different subjects. For now, for today, we'll stick with him,' he nodded to Longbottom and waited as Draco extended himself again.

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The door of the changing room opened behind Etean,

"Have you been avoiding me?" Ginny's voice spun him round. He stopped fastening his robes and looked at her,

"Are you supposed to be in here?" he allowed his voice to sound playful,

"Don't give me that, just answer the question," he frowned, she seemed annoyed,

"What did you ask me?"

"I asked have you been avoiding me," Etean frowned,

"What makes you say that?" she stepped forward,

"You were supposed to meet me an hour ago, in the classroom remember?" 'What is she talking about?'

"No," he shook his head, "What are you talking about?" she set her hands on her hips,

"I sent you a note before lunch,"

"Note? I didn't get a note,"

"What do you mean you didn't get it? I put it in your bag," Etean looked round and picked up his bag. He opened it and looked inside, he couldn't see a note,

"Where?" he asked, holding the bag out to her. She looked in, then dug about inside, finally taking out a small scrap of parchment from somewhere deep in the corner,

"Here," she held it up to him, unfolding it so he could read it,

"Ah," he dropped his bag, "I didn't find that,"

"Apparently," she pocketed the note and turned to leave. Etean dodged round to stand in front of her,

"Hey, don't be like that. Why didn't you just ask me? Why bother with a note at all?"

"You were with Malfoy all day, and I don't want to be anywhere near him,"

"Oh, right,"

"Yes well," she made leave again, "Some other time maybe," he put an arm out, blocking her exit,

"Some other time what?" he raised an eyebrow at her, she blushed bright red,

"I dunno," she shrugged, "I thought maybe we could…" she hesitated,

"Yes?" he prompted,

"Finish reading through those books," she smiled through her blush,

"Well," he put an arm round her, "I suppose we could. After all, yesterday was…"

"Yes?" she interrupted,

"Fun," he grinned, "I never thought spending the afternoon up to my neck in dusty old schoolbooks could be so…interesting,"

"Is that right?"

"You didn't enjoy yourself?" he asked,

She looked up at him, keeping her face blank, "I remember you got me drunk and…"

"Hey," he interrupted, "it's not like I forced you to drink that stuff. And I did try to warn you it was strong,"

"Yeah you did," said Ginny, "but you didn't warn me about the hangover did you?"

"No," he laughed, "I guess I didn't, but now you know don't you?"

Ginny leaned into him and looped her arms round his neck, "Yes I do," she kissed him.

Etean held it for a few seconds before he heard Blaise calling him and pulled back, "I have to go," he growled, "training," he flicked his head toward the door and stepped back to do up his robes,

"I'll see you later?" she asked, he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead,

"Sure, after training, I'll find you," and he darted out the door.

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Draco yawned as he entered the Common Room. Etean was standing by the fire with his back to him. He looked around, there was nobody else in the room,

"What time is it?"

"Ten to one," Etean didn't turn round, "I thought it best not to wake you until the last moment. How's the head?"

"Sore, it feels like a there's a gnome running around in my brain with a hammer, trying to bust loose," Etean laughed at the image,

"Try to relax your mind, the pain will fade,"

"Why does it hurt so much?" Draco asked as he sat down on one of the leather couches, Etean shrugged, still staring into the fireplace,

"You're using your mind in a way it has never been used before. The forces you are channelling are powerful, they cause damage to the nerves in your brain which in turn causes the pain,"

"Damage? What kind of damage? Is it permanent?"

"No," he turned to face him, "The damage minor if you don't push yourself too hard. It is repaired by the same natural healing process that heals a cut on your arm, the same process that you have accelerated within you through your training. What you're doing really amounts to repeatedly damaging the nerves and allowing them to heal, this forces them to become more resilient. It is a gradual process but, as they become stronger, it will hurt less and you will be able to do more,"

"Oh," he yawned again, wincing as the little gnome in his head got a bit more vigorous with his hammer, 'Did you contact The Circle?' he grimaced, even communication hurt,

"It's alright to speak Draco, there is nobody listening. I have seen to that,"

"Ok then, so did you?" Etean nodded,

"I sent them a message, warning of a possible breach in security that they should look into. I also requested that they send me any information they have regarding the Death Eater attacks, specifically any on Circle members or anyone even remotely connected with The Circle. It will probably take them a few days to check everything out and respond,"

"I thought you were going to leave the investigation to them,"

"I am, but I think I should keep myself up to date all the same," Draco nodded and sat back,

"It must be nearly time for her to show up," he looked up at Etean, "Are you going to hang around?"

"If you want me to," Draco thought it over. His mother had requested to meet him in private, but maybe it was better if Etean herd the conversation first hand. If this was a trap, or the beginnings of one, then Etean might spot something he missed,

"Yes, stay. But don't let her see you," Etean nodded and lifted his hood. He faded away, vanishing before Draco's eyes. He suddenly felt alone, he knew Etean was still there but he felt alone all the same. He shut his eyes and tried to relax. His breathing slowed and he felt the pain start to fade. A sharp jab in the chest stirred him, his eyes snapped open, he looked around and saw his mother's head bobbing gently in the fire. He leapt off the couch and knelt before her,

"Hello Draco," her voice sounded only slightly distorted from inside the flames,

"Hello Mother, how are you?" she sighed,

"I'm fine, as well as can be expected but the real question is how you are?"

"I'm OK,"

"Really? I heard you were hurt,"

"Hurt?" he frowned,

"Your hand was injured, yes?" 'How did she know about that?'

"Yes, last week. It was an accident,"

"An 'accident' you say? Last week?" her tone was suspicious,

"Yes, an accident in Duelling class. Professor Flitwick got a bit excited," his mother frowned,

"Are you lying to me Draco?"

"No,"

"Draco?" he felt nervous, like he always did whenever she had caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing,"

"I'm not lying Mother, why would I?" she tilted her head and looked pensive,

"That is what I have been trying to figure out for the past two days,"

"What do you mean?"

"I had a visit from your father Draco,"

"You did?"

"Yes, he was most agitated, and you were the primary topic of conversation,"

"I was?"

"Indeed and according to him, your hand was injured before last week," Draco sat back on the floor,

"What did he tell you?"

"He said that he contacted you two weeks ago and offered to present you to the Dark Lord. He said that the Dark Lord wished you to serve him," she shook her head, "and he said that you reacted like a coward, that you panicked and attacked one his companions and that in the ensuing confusion, you were wounded. Is that an approximately accurate account of the events that transpired?" Draco foundered, what would he say?

'That's close enough Draco, let her run with it,' Etean sounded calm, his voice echoing through Draco's mind steadied him, his eyes darted to the side, assuming that was where Etean was standing,

"Well?" his mother's floating head seemed impatient,

"Yes," he sighed looking back to her, "That about covers it I suppose," his mother nodded,

"I see," she frowned, "Tell me, why you ran? I want to hear the truth Draco,"

'Tell her," Etean's thought was a whisper, 'tell her the truth,' Draco hung his head,

"Voldemort doesn't want me to serve him Mother," he looked up into her eyes, "He wants to kill me," it was a simplified version, but it was the truth. Her eyes widened,

"Why?"

'Careful,' the warning stopped the answer on the tip of his tongue,

"I don't know why Mother, but I know that he does," she shook her head,

"I refuse to believe that Lucius would willingly…sacrifice you for any reason,"

"Well maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do Mother," he lifted his hand and tugged the glove off his fingers, "Look, this is what he did to me," a look of horror spread across his mothers face as she saw his hand, she reached out, her hand extended from the fireplace but disappeared before she could touch him,

"What did he do to you?"

"I told you, Voldemort wants me dead. Father and his cronies tried to kill me, but all they got was my arm,"

"What?" she sounded terrified and confused,

"My arm is dead Mother. The rest of me would be too if Father had had his way,"

"I don't believe it," Draco laughed,

"That's not my problem Mother," he stood up and turned his back on her, "I have enough to worry about at the moment. So you might as well just run off and tell Lucius that I'm not going to fall for whatever little trick he's got you to help him with," his mother was silent for quite a while as Draco paced back and forth in front of the fireplace,

"You're right Draco. Lucius did want me to help him. He asked me to contact you and to try and persuade you to reconsider your decision to serve the Dark Lord, he wanted me to ask you to run away from school and return home," Draco scoffed,

"Trust me Mother, that is never going to happen," she was silent for a moment more, then she sighed,

"I believe you Draco and I want you to believe me when I say that I don't want you to," Draco stopped,

"What?"

"There is a war coming Draco, things are going to be very bad for everyone involved. I don't want you to have anything to do with this,"

"You don't?"

"Of course I don't Draco. I don't want you to get hurt,"

"It's a bit late for that don't you think?" her head grew larger as she leaned further into her fireplace,

"I know you've been injured Draco, but I need you to listen to me. Things are about to happen that you cannot be involved in," her tone was serious, her behaviour confused him,

"What are you talking about?" she shook her head,

"That is not your concern, but I need you to do something for me Draco,"

"What?"

"I need you to stay at Hogwarts," he opened his mouth to question her but she cut him off, "Promise me Draco, no matter what happens, no matter what you hear about…about anything, you stay put," her tone became more and more anxious with every word. Draco felt his own confusion echoed by Etean,

"Tell me why," she shook her head again,

"I can't, I don't have time to go into it now and it's probably better for you that you don't know. I believe I can protect you Draco, keep you safe but you _must_ remain in school. Swear it to me Draco,"

"But…"

"No buts, I'm your mother and I need you to do it for me, I need you to promise me. Give me your word, I know you won't break it,"

"Mother…"

"Please Draco," a tear rolled down her cheek, "Promise me," he looked at her, he couldn't remember her ever showing this much concern for him in his whole life,

"I promise, I'll stay here," she smiled,

"Thank you Draco. I love you, always remember that," he felt his lip start to quiver,

"I love you too," he answered but she was already gone. His confusion was joined by a sudden fear. He looked up as Etean emerged from the shadows and lowered his hood. "What was all that about?" Etean shook his head,

"I don't know Draco,"

"You didn't read her mind?"

"No," he shook his head again, "She wasn't really here, not enough for me to get her thoughts. I did sense her emotions though,"

"And," he took a step closer to him, "what did you sense?"

"She's afraid, terrified is more like it,"

"Of what?"

"I can't be sure, but I can guess,"

"Voldemort," he nodded,

"Seems to be a developing theme doesn't it? If I were to guess, I would say that your mother has for the first time realised just how deep into this situation she is," Draco nodded, it made sense,

"She always believed she was safe, that nothing could hurt her because Father wouldn't allow it. The wife of Lucius Malfoy had nothing to fear,"

"To an extent, she was right. But, I think it is becoming clear to her that she is not top of his list of priorities, her protector isn't what she thought he was," Draco ran through the conversation again,

"What do you think she meant when she said she could protect me?"

"Good question," Etean moved over to a chair and sat down, "I take it that wasn't normal behaviour from her?"

"You can say that again," Etean paused, thinking. Draco sat down on a couch opposite him, Etean leaned forward, "She must know you're safe as long as you stay here, she said Lucius wanted her to lure you out, that would explain why she was so adamant for you to stay in Hogwarts. Maybe she thinks she can stall him, put him off his plans for you," Draco shook his head,

"It sounded like more than that to me, she knows something about what's going on. Something we don't know,"

"Maybe, or maybe she knows something we already know and she just doesn't know that we know it," Draco ran it through his head again but it made no more sense than the first time,

"What?"

"She doesn't know what we…I mean what The Circle knows about Voldemort and his operations. She has been around Lucius for a long time, it's possible that she has learned some of his secrets. That might include some information about what Voldemort is doing,"

"That he's coming for me?" Etean shook his head,

"That isn't the impression I got, she may know something about Voldemort's strategy but I doubt she knows anything about the Ascension. At last report, The Council believed that only Voldemort's inner circle knows the truth about his plans for you," Draco sat back and sighed,

"Fine, but am I the only one that is starting to think that there is more going on here than the Ascension?" Etean sighed,

"Of course there is Draco, welcome to my world. Here we are, stuck between everyone, between the Ministry, the Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix and now," he pointed to the dying fire, "your good mother. Each of them has plans, each of their plans involves the others in some way and we are stuck trying to figure it all out before we get ourselves killed. You should be starting to get an idea of the kind of problems I am asked to solve on a regular basis,"

"So, what do we do?"

"Nothing, there isn't anything we can do without further information,"

"So?"

"So we wait until we hear from the Council, hopefully any new information they give us will shed some light on this mess," Etean stood up and stretched. Draco rubbed his eyes, he was exhausted but there was no way he was sleeping tonight. "Here," he looked up to see Etean holding a goblet out to him, "drink this,"

"What is it?"

"It will take the pain away and help you sleep, trust me you need it," Draco took the goblet, it was full of something that looked like pumpkin juice, "It isn't," Etean added, "In fact it tastes like shit," he smiled, "but it does work,"

Draco drank the stuff, it tasted worse than he expected but he managed to swallow it. He felt warmth spread out from his stomach and the pain faded from his head. His eyes drooped shut, now he felt as if he could sleep,

"Come on," Etean lifted him from the couch and steered him toward the stairs, "Bed!"


	28. Regal

            'She wants you to ask her out,' Draco smiled as he sent the thought.  Beside him Etean sighed, he glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eye and continued to take down the notes Professor Flitwick was writing on the board.  Draco continued to grin as he picked up his quill and started to write.  It was tough to keep up, writing left handed as the chalk shot across the board.  Etean shook his head slightly,

            'That's a polite way to put it Draco,' he replied, 'what she is really thinking is a little more…pornographic,' Etean caught Millicent's eye, she smiled suggestively, 'No, a lot more pornographic!'  Draco sensed Etean's reaction, the idea of doing what Millicent was thinking clearly didn't appeal to him.  Not that he let it show.  To look at him, you would be hard pressed to have any idea that he was even aware of Millicent, let alone that he could hear her most intimate thoughts – there was no other word to describe them.  She turned back to the board, Etean shook his head again.  'I think that's enough from her for one day.  Well done, you're getting good at this.  Now lets see, who next?'  Draco watched as Etean's eyes travelled across the room, searching for the next target.  They settled on Justin Flinch-Fletchley, 'Him!'  Etean looked down and continued taking notes.  Draco looked at Justin, he was sitting in the front row, Draco stared at the back of his head and extended his mind to reach him.  They had been at this all morning, all weekend, he felt the familiar twinge sting his temples.  He shut his eyes and relaxed, settling his mind to ease the pain.  His eyes drifted open as it subsided, he focussed on the tingling sensation he felt as the connection formed.  Pushing the sound of Flitwick's voice out of the way he concentrated on Justin's mind.  The sound of Justin's thoughts grew and filled his head.

            Draco concentrated on the sound, allowing it to grow until he heard the thought, an image rather than a word formed inside his head.  He sat bolt upright with surprise, he felt a warning from Etean, then the question he had been expecting.  It was a minute before he could respond.

            'Potter,' he shuddered, 'he's thinking about Potter,'

            'Yes,' Etean replied, the tone of the thought was flat, 'but what is he thinking about Potter?'  Draco was about to answer, but the mental image of what Justin was daydreaming about filled his mind, it nearly made him sick.  Etean turned slightly and repeated the question,

            'Trust me, you don't want to know,' he lowered his head into his hand, 'I wish I didn't know.'  Etean glanced over at Justin, then visibly winced,

            'Now there's a nasty image for you,' he smiled then shook his head, 'That's the risk you take when you look into peoples minds Draco.  You don't always like what you see, in point of fact you rarely do,' Draco looked up.  He shook his head and turned his attention back to the Professor, desperate to get Justin's thought out of his head.  Flitwick stopped writing and turned back to the class, continuing his lecture.  'Best we switch again don't you think?'

'Please!'  Etean grinned.  His eyes travelled around the room for a few moments before selecting another student, Hannah Abbot.  They continued like that for the rest of the class.  By the time the bell rang, Draco had snooped about in the thoughts of every other student in the room.  He winced as they stood up to leave, it was getting easier to read minds, but it felt as if his little gnome friend had invited his buddies around for a cranium busting session.  Millicent made cow eyes at Etean as she passed, he waited till she was gone before rolling his eyes,

"She has quite an imagination," he said as he hefted his bag onto his shoulder, "shame she's so damned ugly," Draco smirked,

"You aren't even slightly tempted?"  Etean's expression answered the question for him.  They laughed and headed down to the Great Hall for lunch.  The crowd thickened as they reached the Grand Staircase.  Eventually, Etean and Draco reached the first floor landing and surveyed the crowd below,

            "This is going to take a while," Etean sighed and sat against the railing, apparently happy to wait for the crowd to move.  Draco stepped out of the way to stand beside him, rubbing the pain from his temple,

            'How long more do you think we'll be waiting for a response from The Circle?' he asked, Etean turned to face him and shrugged,

            'Like I said, they have to check everything out first and then compose a response.  It shouldn't take too long.  In fact, it should be…' the thought trailed off as he spun round to look down into the Entrance Hall,

            "What's going on?" Draco asked but Etean didn't answer, he didn't need to.  Draco's answer came as an ear-splitting shriek filled the air.  It was followed by a hundred screams from the gathered students below.  Draco looked down to see them all trying to scatter and run as a golden brown eagle flew into the Hall and circled over their heads.  Draco's eyes picked out Hermione swiping at it in panic as it swooped at her.  He looked up at Etean to see him grinning, the scene below apparently amused him.  Etean let it carry on for a few moments before he straightened up.  His lips pursed and he let out a loud, two note whistle.  The eagle reacted, banking in the air and turning to fly straight at Draco.  He heard the Slytherins behind him vocalising the same fear he felt as he drew back.  Etean laughed, the eagle fluttered to a halt and landed gently on his forearm,

            "Hello boy," he said happily as he lifted his other hand to stroke the bird, "What are you doing here?" Draco was bumped and pushed as the other students on the landing moved back, not wanting to be anywhere near the thing, Etean didn't seem to mind though,

            "What is that thing?" Draco asked him, Etean didn't turn, his attention remained focussed on the eagle,

            "This is not a thing," he said quietly, his fingers danced about before the eagle's eyes, inviting him to snap at them, "This is Regal,"

            "Regal?"

            "Yes, that's his name.  What brings you here boy?" he asked the bird.  Regal lifted his wing to reveal a cylindrical silver container strapped beneath it.  Etean reached up and untied the chords, Regal nipped at him gently as he removed the thing, apparently happy to be free of his burden,

            'Is that what I think it is?' Draco sent him,

            'If you think it's a message, then yes.  If you think it's from the Council, then that remains to be seen,' He scratched the bird's head again, "Thank you Regal.  Now, let's see if we can't scare you up some food," he said aloud and headed down the stairs.  His path was suddenly free as the other students cowered back.  Draco shook his head and followed.  They had no trouble finding an empty seat at the Slytherin table.  Several students, suddenly finished their food, stood up and left in a hurry when they saw Regal staring at them from his perch on Etean's arm.  Pansy sat on the far side of Draco, keeping her distance as Etean set Regal down on the table beside him.

"Do you do anything the normal way?" she asked, Etean looked up.  Regal wasted no time attacking the roast ham in front of him, if anyone objected to him devouring their lunch, they didn't say it,

"What do you mean?" Pansy pointed at Regal, pulling her hand away fast as he snapped at her,

"Most people don't use eagles to deliver mail, what's wrong with owls?" Etean shrugged,

"Eagles are faster, stronger and smarter than owls.  Besides, I use owls the same as everyone else most of the time.  Regal is my pet," he reached out to stroke the birds head as it wolfed down a chunk of meat,

"You have a pet eagle?" Draco asked,

"Why not?  They are good pets, strong and proud," Draco shrugged, 'Whatever,' Etean took out the cylinder and pressed his ring into the top of it.  With an audible pop, the lid came off and landed on the tabletop.  Etean turned it over and dumped its contents onto his empty plate,

'Erm, are you sure you want to open that here?' Draco sent him, Etean gave a barely perceptible shrug,

'How else will I know what's in it?'  The cylinder was full of parchment, several sheets neatly rolled up in a tight scroll.  As they landed on the table they expanded, Draco was amazed at just how many sheets that tiny cylinder had held.  Etean skimmed through the pile of parchment, shaking his head at some of it,

"What is all that stuff?"

"In one word…boring," he looked up and grinned, "it's just legal crap mostly, stuff I have to sign," Etean started to leaf through the rest of the pile then paused, dropped half the parchment and picked up a red envelope.  Draco thought he caught a whiff of perfume on it, Etean scowled and stuffed it into his robes.  Draco raised an eyebrow but decided not to question it, he reached out and took up the top document, it was in French, an estimate for some building work,

"Who or what are the 'Etyar'?"

"What?" Etean looked up at him, seeing the parchment in Draco's hand, he scowled, "Most people understand that someone else's mail is private, Draco," Draco shrugged,

"I know, I guess I'm just being nosey," Etean sighed,

"What, specifically, are you being nosey about?"

"The word that caught my eye was 'barracks'," Etean saw Pansy's eyebrows rise as she too heard the word, he looked at the parchment,

"I would have thought that the price would have attracted your attention more," Draco shook his head,

"Money I am used to, private armies are new to me,"

"You have your own army?" Pansy added,

"The Etyar are not an army," Eteans tone was stern, Draco raised an eyebrow,

"So, why do they need a barracks then?"

"They don't _need_ a barracks, the one they have is more than adequate, or at least it will be.  This is the cost of renovating it,"

"Must be a big barracks then to cost that much," Etean shrugged,

"Not that big, just an expensive refurbishment that's all.  They do a good job and they deserve their little rewards,"

"So what job do they do so well?" Etean growled at the suggestive nature of Pansy's tone, 'What is she thinking?'  Draco was about to read her mind when Etean answered and distracted him,

"If you must know, they're guards,"

"What do they guard?"

"Me,"

"You?" she didn't seem to get it, Draco rolled his eyes,

"Use your head Pansy, they're bodyguards?" he turned to Etean, "Right?"

"Yes well, officially anyway.  Their primary duty is to guard the Lord Etean, not that I have ever used them much for that," Etean looked back to his letters,

"So why keep them around then?"  Etean shrugged,

"Why not?  They have existed for a long time, they were originally created by my great, great…great," he paused and stared into space for a moment, "Oh," he shook his head, "one of my ancestors anyway.  He felt he needed a private security force, I'm not entirely sure why," he paused again then shrugged, "Anyway, now they are useful, if I ever need a bodyguard, they're there.  If not," he shrugged, "they still guard over everything I own,"

"You must own quite a lot then," Etean nodded,

"You could say that, they are certainly kept busy,"

"But still, it seems like a lot of money to spend on security guards,"

"Maybe so, but you haven't seen them in action and besides, they also have…other duties,"

"Such as?"

"In Merlin's name Draco, must you know every little detail?" Draco shrugged,

"Like I said, I'm nosey," Etean took a deep breath,

"Well, other than to guard my family, the only major duty that the Etyar perform is to stand watch over the French Administrative Committee at the Adjutaire when they are in session," Draco felt his jaw drop,

"_You_ guard the French government?"

"Not me personally, just some people that work for me.  Its a tradition that one of my ancestors started during the muggle rebellion in France at the end of the eighteenth century, but it sounds bigger than it is, it is more of a ceremonial posting than a defensive one nowadays," Draco reached out and picked up the parchment again, the Etyar barracks really had cost Etean quite a lot of gold,

"It's an expensive tradition," Etean took the parchment back and pressed his ring into it, leaving the imprint of his family crest where the signature should go,

"Yes, well they are worth it,"

"Are they?"

"Yes," Etean said in a flat tone, 'Leave it for now!' he added mentally.  Draco leaned forward, careful to remain outside Regal's biting range,

'Are they part of The Circle?' Etean paused briefly, then shook his head,

'No, not all of them anyway, they work for me,' he stood up to leave,

"Where are you going?" Etean bundled up the letters and waved them at Draco,

"I have to read these and reply to most of them," he walked away, I'll see you later," he said over his shoulder.  Draco looked at Regal, the bird fixed him with an unnerving, predatory stare,

"Erm," he called after the shrinking Etean, "Etean?"  He didn't stop or turn, he raised his arm and gave another loud whistle.  Regal took off from the table and flew over to land on his arm as he turned the corner of the door.

"Thank god that thing is gone," Pansy said, getting a few nods from the other Slytherins, "Etean's a funny guy don't you think Draco?" she asked him,

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I just don't seem to get him.  One minute he's all over me and the next he's not interested in the slightest," Typical Pansy, only interested in herself.  He scowled,

"If I remember it correctly Pansy, it was you that was all over him when he first arrived, not the other way around,"

"Are you jealous Draco?" she purred, her tone had picked up.  The idea of him being jealous must have excited her,

"Jealous?  Of Etean?  Of course not, I know…" he paused, he was not in the mood for Pansy today,

"You know I only have eyes for you," she finished for him.  That wasn't what he was planning on saying but he didn't feel like arguing.  She leaned in to kiss him, aiming for his mouth but he turned his head so she got his cheek instead,

"Whatever," he said and turned his attention back to his dinner.  He looked up to see Hermione staring at him, his breath caught in his chest.  'Why is she looking at me?' he raised an eyebrow at her but she quickly looked away, back down at her food.  The same hollow feeling he had felt before, that he felt every time he looked at her came back.  He couldn't breathe, his stomach felt like it had caved in on itself and he dropped his fork onto his plate.  He knew he couldn't eat anything now, his appetite was gone.  How could she think he was the same as his father?  He sighed, 'How can she think I'm anything else?'

He shook his head and stood to leave, Pansy asked him where he was going but he didn't answer.  He had to get out, where didn't matter but he had to get some air into his lungs or he would pass out.  Draco turned the corner into the Entrance Hall and suddenly she was in front of him, standing in his path.

"Malfoy I…"

"What?" he managed to snarl.  Her jaw set and she drew herself up,

"Listen," she was back to sounding like a junior professor again, "I said I was sorry for upsetting you last week and I really don't think…" he raised a hand, not really meaning to close his fist but it happened,

"Don't," he growled at her, "Don't bother, I don't want to hear it alright?" she paused and stared at his fist until he lowered it, he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "What did you want anyway?"

"I wanted to finish our project, it is due on Friday you know?" he nodded,

"Yeah I haven't forgotten," he lied, "So, what do you want to do about it?"

"How about we meet later on and get it done, yes?"

"Fine, I'll see you in the library later," he kept his eyes on the floor as he marched around her and out of the doors,

"When?" she called after him,

"Later," he growled but there was no way she could have heard him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            "Hermione, we have to do it," Ron urged, "You heard what Dumbledore said, the ministry will never do what it takes to get to the truth in time,"  This was the perfect opportunity for them to talk, none of them had any classes to attend, unlike most of their house.  The Common Room was deserted, the entire Gryffindor dorm was empty.  They had checked it out before having this conversation, it was a good job too, they weren't being quiet,

            "We can't Ron, what you're suggesting is illegal, more than that, it's wrong," Ron grabbed his head and spun round,

            "What's wrong about it?" his voice was an angry, throaty growl, "It's not like we are hurting anybody," he looked down as Harry looked up at him, "Well," he shrugged, "Anybody important that is,"

            "I can't believe you're saying this Ron," he slammed his fists into the back of an armchair,

            "Damn it Hermione, do you ever stop moralising over every little detail,"

            "This isn't a little detail Ron, we're talking about," she stopped and stepped closer to him, afraid they were being over heard, "about interrogating Malfoy for information…about torturing him,"

            "So what?  I don't care," Ron spun on his heel to face her, "I don't care if we have to torture him, I don't care if we have to…" he raised both fists into the air and squeezed them together, "if we have to ring his scrawny little neck," he took another step forward, Hermione found herself retreating from him, "I am willing to do whatever I have to do to get the information we need, even if that means I have to bleed that murdering little son of a Death Eater dry!" Hermione gulped a couple of ragged breaths.  She could hardly believe that this was her friend talking to her.  She knew he was angry, but now his rage was almost tangible in the air.  He had called Malfoy a murderer, she knew that he wasn't talking about Draco Malfoy, but she also knew that he wasn't even trying to make the distinction in his head anymore and that scared her,

            "Ron," she decided to try one last attempt to get him to listen to reason, "Malfoy isn't a murderer, he didn't…he didn't do anything wrong,"

            "Nothing wrong?  Are you stupid or just crazy Hermione?  He is his father's little boy, the picture perfect little Death Eater in waiting.  It's only a matter of time before he follows in daddy's footsteps,"

            "He might not Ron,"

            "He might not?  Listen to yourself Hermione, why are you even bothering to defend that bigoted, arrogant little shithead?"

            "I'm not defending him Ron, I'm trying to help you,"

            "I have asked you to help me Hermione and all you have done is argue,"

            "No what you've asked me to do is to help you torture an innocent student for no reason other than your own revenge.  Dress it up all you want Ron, that is what you're doing and I will not help you do it," she paused, realising that she was going too far, that she could push him over the edge, but she was too angry to listen to her own warnings, "And I'll tell you something else, if you try to do it I'll…"

            "You'll what?" he roared, stepping up to her face, for a moment, looking into his eyes she felt afraid of him for the first time ever.  She found her fingers going for her wand to defend herself but Harry's voice echoed off the walls, breaking the moment,

            "Shut it the pair of you," he bellowed.  He stood up and grabbed Ron's shoulder to hurl him away from Hermione,

            "What are you doing Harry?  I thought you were on my side,"

            "Your side Ron?  What does that mean?  What are you going to do, punch Hermione?  Am I supposed to be on your side for that too?"  Ron didn't answer, he just stared at Harry.  Harry straightened and put his hands on his hips, "There is more going on here than you're vendetta Ron.  This is more than that, this is bigger,"

            "What is it about then?"

            "Voldemort!" Ron was too angry to react to the name, Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine.  Ron laughed, the sound surprised Hermione,

            "Oh yes," he said, turning to pace across the fireplace, "This is bigger than my vendetta as you call it, but not yours.  V…" he took a breath, "Voldemort, killed your parents all those years ago and that makes it OK for you to hate him and that's fine by me.  But what makes you different from me?"  Hermione looked at Harry, his face had gone pale, his lips were so thin she could barely see them, Ron continued, "What is so wrong with me hating Malfoy for killing my brother?  I grew up with Percy and I loved him, you barely even knew your parents.  Why is it that your plans, your reasons are never questioned?  Why is it fine for you to do whatever you want because you hate Voldemort, but it's not alright for me?"

            "I WATCHED THEM DIE!!!!" Harry's words shook the walls, he advanced on Ron, tears streaking his cheeks, "You heard that Malfoy killed Percy, you were told about it, I remember them, I remember…" he paused for breath, "I remember hearing my mother scream as he killed her.  But I suppose that doesn't make any difference, I didn't really know them did I?  I was just a baby," the fight seemed to leave Ron as Harry spoke, the colour drained from his face.  Hermione couldn't stop the tears from falling freely while he kept talking, "I was a baby, so I suppose you're right I didn't really know them,"

            "Harry…" Ron started,

            "Shut it!  I didn't know my parents but I knew Sirius, you remember him?  Do you?"

            "Harry…"

            "Answer me Ron, do you remember Sirius?"

            "Yes," he said quietly, Harry turned to face her,

            "And you, do you remember him as well?" her lips shook, she was trembling so hard that it was almost impossible to answer

            "Harry I…" she managed eventually before he stopped her,

            "Just," he clenched a fist in the air, "answer me Hermione,"

            "Yes, I remember him,"

            "Good, did it hurt when you heard he had died, when you heard he had been murdered?"

"Of course it did but…"

"But nothing Hermione, it hurt?  Great, I'm glad that the news hurt you because I _saw_ him die too, I remember it, I see it every time I close my eyes.  He died because of me, just like they did…my parents.  This shouldn't come as news to you," he looked back to Ron, "to either of you but I feel I need to say it anyway," he turned to face her again, "Now, this idea was Ron's to begin with, he suggested that the rules are getting in the way and I agree with him Hermione.  We are going to do this, one way or another, with or without you.  But I want you to know why Hermione,"

            "Harry, it's wrong,"

            "I know, and I don't care.  I'm sick of it Hermione.  Ever since I got here I have been the boy who lived.  The boy who lived while others, people I cared about died.  The boy who lived through battle after battle only to have to wait for the next one to come along.  I'm tired, tired of waiting for Voldemort's next attack, tired of sitting on my hands while others put themselves in harms way for my benefit, for my safety and end up dying because of it.

            "I can't do it Hermione, not again," he shut his eyes as a tear fell, "I won't do it again.  This time is going to be different, this time I am going after him and I will beat him even if I have to blast my way into hell and back to do it.  Now, Malfoy knows something, things about his father that can help us, things he hasn't told anyone else.  He has secrets Hermione and I am going to find them out," he stopped.  The silence pounded her ears till she was sure they were bleeding.  She sat down and stared straight ahead at nothing in particular.  Ron moved over and stood beside Harry, she wasn't sure how long they stood there, she didn't hear anything they said.  All she could see was their feet in front of her, then Harry knelt down and looked at her,

            "The point of all this is that the why doesn't matter anymore, Ron has his reasons and I have mine.  We are going to do this, we need to do this.  Will you help us Hermione?"

            "What?" her brain felt dead, like she was not really awake,

            "Will you help us find out what he knows?" she wiped away her tears,

            "How?"

            "Like Ron said, we need to be able to get him alone, we need to get him somewhere that we won't be disturbed.  You could do that, just meet him later tonight, say you want to work on your project thing…We'll do the rest,"

            "I don't know,"

            "Please Hermione.  Like I said we can do this without you, and we will.  But this way will be easier,"

            "What if you're wrong?  What if he doesn't know anything?"

            "He does Hermione, I know he does,"

            "But what if he doesn't?" the tears filled her eyes again, Harry shook his head and looked over his shoulder at Ron,

            "If he doesn't…then at least we'll know it for certain, won't we?"

            "But what will you do?  It's not like he's going to appreciate this is it?"

            "Who cares what he thinks?" Ron found his voice again,

            "Ron," she snapped, amazed at his naiveté, "If you torture him, don't you think he's going to tell someone," Ron shrugged,

            "We obliviate him," Hermione stood up,

            "Oh really?" she looked at each of them in turn as Harry stood up, "And you know how to do that then?" Ron looked at Harry, they both shrugged,

            "No, I thought as much," she shook her head, "Did you even think this through at all?"

            "Of course we did," Harry barked,

            "Oh yes?  And how were you planning on taking care of Malfoy's memory then if neither of you can erase it?"

            "Well," Ron looked at Harry and then at her, "We…" she understood,

            "I get it," she turned away from them, "With or without me eh?  Sounds like you need me to do more than bait him for you," Harry sighed,

            "Will you help us or not?" Could she do it?  She knew she should report this, Dumbledore would stop it in short order but Harry's speech had struck a nerve, could she really expect him to sit around and wait for Voldemort to make his move.  If they didn't do this, if they didn't do something, then that was what he would have to do.  Was it fair of her to make him?  She shook her head, they would do it anyway.  This way she would be able to stop them…maybe.  She would be able to stop it going too far, stop Malfoy from being hurt.  The thought of something…bad happening to him scared her, it really was starting to surprise her how much but she couldn't worry about that now, this was her friend's life she was considering, this was what was best for Harry.  If Malfoy knew anything that would help them then they needed him to tell them.  'And if he doesn't know anything?  Or if he won't talk?' she shook her head again, she would deal with those problems if they arose,

            "OK," she whispered.  It was done.

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Etean entered the Owlery and moved over near the window, setting Regal down on a perch.  Half the owls took flight at the very sight of Regal, those that stayed fluttered and scrambled into the highest rafters.

"Popular as always eh boy?" he said quietly, Regal shook his feathers and turned away in disgust.  He took out the letters again and rapidly skimmed through them, planting his mark on those that required it, retaining those that required a more detailed response, he would write them later.  He looked up to see Regal staring at him,

            "OK, give it to me," he set the two piles of parchment down.  The bird turned his head and stretched, spreading the feathers on his neck to reveal a small leather collar bearing a tiny silver coin.  Etean carefully removed it, Regal seemed relieved to be free, "Sorry my friend, they shouldn't have used you," Regal clicked his beak and fluttered up onto the window ledge to look out.  Etean disconnected the coin from the collar and tossed the leather strip out the window.  He held the coin in his hand then, sensing someone coming, he stuffed it rapidly into his pocket.  He turned to see Ginny enter, carrying a small grey ball of fluff in her hand.  Etean recovered himself and smiled at her,

            "Hello there," she started, then blushed as she smiled back,

            "Hi…em you sending a letter too?" she asked lifting her hand to reveal that the ball of fluff was actually a tiny owl.  It took Etean a moment to remember what he was doing there,

            "Oh, yes," he pointed to the pile of letters on the shelf, "The joys of being lord of the manner you know," she shook her head,

            "No, not really," her eyes settled on the window and she took a step back, "What is that?" Etean followed her look and smiled as he turned back to her,

            "That's Regal," he held out his hand and whistled, Regal flew over to him, "he's my friend," he stepped closer to her, she seemed nervous.  Etean laughed, "Its OK Ginny, he won't hurt you," he extended his arm.  Regal looked at Ginny and she drew back,

            "He'll bite me," Etean laughed again,

            "No he won't," he reached out and took her hand.  He slowly raised it to touch Regal's chest, "It's OK so long as he trusts you,"

            "He trusts me?" her voice trembled,

            "No, he trusts me and now he knows that I trust you," he let her go.  She continued to stroke Regal's feathers as the bird turned his attention back to the window,

            "You trust me?" Etean shrugged,

            "Sure," he smiled, "Why not?" she smiled at him, "Who are you writing to?" he nodded at her other hand, it still held the tiny owl,

            "What?  Oh, just my brother, just…keeping in touch,"

            "Yeah," he sighed, "its good to keep in touch with family," he looked over at the window and remembered why he was up here in the first place, "Here," he turned back to her, "Will you hold him for a second?" her mouth dropped open,

            "What?"

            "Just for a second, it's OK.  He won't hurt you," he held out his arm to her, she hesitated, obviously not happy with the idea.  He looked her in the eye and nodded.  Slowly she held out her arm and took Regal from him.  When he was safely perched on her forearm, Etean turned back to the window.  He gathered up the letters he had to send and stuffed them back into the cylinder they came from.  Behind him, he heard Ginny move around.  "Not so fast," he warned too late as she shrieked.  The tiny owl she was holding let out a deafening shriek and flew up into the rafters.  Etean spun round as Regal flew over to perch on the window again.  "Regal!" he scolded, "Are you alright?"

            "No," she hissed, clutching her arm, "his claws, they dug into me,"

            "I know," he moved over to her, "I probably should have warned you that you shouldn't move too much until he's used to you," he examined her arm, Regal hadn't even broken the skin, "You'll be fine," he kissed her scratched skin, let her go and turned to tie the cylinder to Regal,

            "I thought you said he trusted me,"

            "No, I said _I_ trusted you.  Regal takes a bit longer to get to know people.  But don't feel to bad though, he does like you," Etean picked Regal up and turned back to Ginny,

            "What makes you say that?"

            "The last person I asked to hold him that he didn't like," he stroked his chest, "lost a finger," he smiled at her then turned to Regal, "Hurry back my friend," he whispered then released him out the window.  Ginny stepped up beside him, he put his arm around her as he watched Regal disappear into the clouds.  "You want a hand getting your bird back?"

            "What?  Oh Pig,"

            "The bird is called Pig?" Ginny rolled her eyes at him,

            "He belongs to Ron, he's really called Pidgwidgeon, but I thought it was a bit of a mouthful,"

            "You got that right," Etean scanned the rafters, "No animal should have a name that's bigger than it is.  Where has it gone to?"

            "He's hiding, scared of your monster bird I bet," Etean grabbed at his heart in mock shock,

            "Regal is not a monster," he stepped away from her and continued to scan the rows of owls, "He just stands out is all, he's…unique,"

            "Like you?" she asked quietly, Etean barked out a laugh,

            "In more ways than you know," he shrugged, "Ah, there you are," he pointed at Pig in the corner of the room,"

            "Where?" Ginny stepped up and followed his finger, "Come here Pig," the bird ignored her and continued to cower into the corner.  It took five minutes of continual coaxing from both of them to get Pig to come down and allow Ginny to attach her letter.  Etean checked his watch,

            "You late for something?" Ginny asked him as she tossed Pig out the window,

            "No, why?" she nodded at his watch,

            "Well, I am just trying to make sure I don't loose track of time," she seemed puzzled,

            "Do you do that often," she asked, folding her arms around her chest, "Loose track of time?" he smiled and put his arm round her shoulders,

            "Funny thing," he said as he steered her towards the door, "I never used to.  I used to hardly need a watch, but lately…"

            "What?"

            "Well, it seems that every time I am around you, time seems to disappear,"

            "Oh really," they stepped out onto the landing, overlooking a seven storey drop as they waited for the staircases to move into position.  Ginny took his hand in hers and moved herself closer to him, "Is that a bad thing?"

            "I'm not sure yet?" he smiled as she pulled his hand to her face and bit his thumb, "Ouch," she let his thumb go,

            "Serves you right," she grinned, "Hey," her tone changed, she sounded concerned, "You're bleeding," she moved out from under his arm and turned to start undoing his cuff.  Etean looked down at his arm, there were a couple of spots of blood on his shirt, he hadn't even noticed the injury,

            "It's nothing," he tried to pull away but she held on, "Really, its just Regal, he can grip a little tight sometimes," she pulled his sleeve up to reveal a set of scratches that matched Regal's talons.  They were superficial, nothing to worry about, they would heal in days on their own even without his rapid healing.  Ginny of course know nothing about his healing abilities.  He ground his teeth and hoped she wouldn't notice.  Now that he was aware of the injury, his body wanted to heal.  Through a sheer act of will, he held his accelerated healing powers at bay.  Ginny continued to examine his forearm, clearly she was worried about the scratches, at least until she saw…

            "Hey, what's this?" she pulled his sleeve up further, revealing the remainder of his tattoo, he grimaced, 'That bloody thing,'

            "That is a tattoo Ginny," he said sarcastically as she started to run her fingers along it,

            "I know that," she pinched him, "but I meant what does it mean?" Etean laughed, but she didn't get the joke, "What's so funny?" she frowned,

            "Nothing," he got control of himself, "Its just that that question pretty much describes the whole point of that tattoo,"

            "How do you mean?" Etean turned around and sat on the edge of the banister,

            "It's a Valkar symbol,"

            "What's a Valkar?"

            "You don't know?" she shook her head, he pulled her to him and looped his arm around her again, "The Valkar…well that is a funny question.  You see, nobody knows,"

            "You're not making any sense here you know?" he laughed,

            "The Valkar, Ginny are a mystery, and an old one at that.  Nobody really knows anything about them other than the fact that they existed and now they are gone.  We don't know where they came from, how they lived or where they went.  There are no answers to these questions, but there are clues, ruins and ancient archaeological…

            "Archeo-what?" he laughed,

            "Archaeological, it means old.  There are lots and lots of old clues dotted all over the world.  A buried temple beneath Athens, a lost city in the Sahara and countless other places in Sweden, Russia, Bulgaria, right down to the tip of Africa, from Portugal in the west and as far to the east as Japan.  People, some really intelligent people, have been studying these fragments and clues for centuries, trying to figure them out,"

            "I have never heard of them," he shrugged,

            "That doesn't really surprise me, not many have.  But they are a big deal to a lot of dried up old professors I can tell you,"

"What does all this have to do with your tattoo?"

            "I'm getting to that.  You see these professors have come up with any number of theories about who the Valkar were.  Some believe they were a civilisation of wizards, some think they were muggles.  Some even believe that they were some sort of super-beings that had powers we cannot imagine," he couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice as he said that, Ginny laughed at his tone, "I know, sounds silly doesn't it?" she nodded,

            "A bit yeah, when you say it like that.  Some people will believe anything,"

            "Yes.  Well, my grandfather was one who believed that he used to lecture me for hours about how the Valkar were the next thing to gods.  He was quite convincing and for a time, he was able to make me believe.  He dragged me on expeditions, crawling through tombs and dusty caves," he laughed at a memory, "I remember he was like a little kid whenever he found some little trinket or talisman.  This," he lowered his arm and pulled up his sleeve to reveal the tattoo again, "is a mark we found in a temple buried about a mile under Cairo.  We discovered it in what we believed was a temple of healing.  This mark, according to my grandfather is supposed to make the bearer immune to any and all diseases and ailments.  It was supposed to make you invulnerable,"

            "And did it?" he laughed and turned his arm over to show her the scratches Regal had left,

            "Does it look like it?"

            "No, I suppose not.  So does your grandfather still believe in them, the Valkar?"

            "Oh yes, he will until the day he dies.  I think he likes believing that there is something out there, better than he is or could ever be,"

            "But you don't?" he shook his head,

            "Nah, I grew out of it in the end, shame that wasn't until after," he looked at his arm, "I painted this on my arm,"

            "Can you remove it?" he smiled and shook his head,

            "Nope, the way I put this thing on can't be undone," She looked at the tattoo again, then grabbed his wrist and stared at his watch,

            "Shit, now _I'm_ late for class," she shouted and dashed forward.  She got five steps before she turned around and came back to him,

            "Guess you were right about time disappearing eh?" she kissed him, then darted off down the stairs.  Etean watched her go, then dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out the coin again,

            "Oh well," he sighed, "back to work."


	29. The Interrogation

            Hermione wrung her fingers together under the table.  The library was deserted, everyone else had gone to bed except for Malfoy and her.  It was nearly time.  Harry and Ron would be here soon.  Malfoy glanced up at her, she picked up her quill and tried to look normal.  Her eyes scanned the page she was working on but she didn't take any of it in, she couldn't even remember writing it.  She risked a look at Malfoy again, he had his head down, bent over the notes he was making,

            'We shouldn't do this, this is wrong,' the thought kept repeating over and over again.  She shut her eyes and lifted her head.  They were going to do this, it was too late to turn back now, Harry and Ron were probably already on their way here.  She opened her eyes and stared out at the night sky, 'We won't hurt him,' she promised herself, 'We'll just find out what he knows and have done with it,' the thought didn't sound convincing even to her.  This was bad.  Belatedly, she realised Malfoy was talking to her.

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            "How do you think we should make the transition between explaining what Dumbledore did and discussing the benefits of his work?" Draco asked without looking up.  He had managed to get through this evening by focussing on the task at hand and trying desperately not to think about Hermione.  Not an easy task given that she was sitting less than three feet from him.  When she didn't answer him he sighed.  It was really hard to concentrate on their work when her head was clearly somewhere else.  He looked up and instantly regretted it as the lump came back to his throat.  Hermione was staring out the window, 'At what?  Its pitch black out there,'  "Hermione?" he called, he had to repeat it before she answered,

            "What?" he frowned,

            "What's gotten into you tonight?  You said you wanted to get this damned thing done remember?" she shook her head,

            "Yes I know," she sighed, "I'm just thinking,"

            "About what?" she paused,

            "About you actually," she looked at him, he couldn't read her expression,

            "Me?  What about me?" she put her quill down and took a deep breath,

            "I know you aren't your father Malfoy…" his face hardened, 'Why does she have to say it over and over again?  Why can't I believe her?' he shook his head and stood up,

            "Please don't Hermione," he said, "I don't want to have this conversation with you again,"

            "No, wait, we have to," she jumped up and moved round the table, "I have to ask you something," he shut his eyes, 'So much for sticking to work,' his insides started to ache again,

            "What?"

            "Well, if…" she paused, "If you knew something, something about him that the Ministry doesn't know.  If you knew where he was or how to find him, would you tell us?"

            "Us?"

            "I mean the Ministry, or Dumbledore, would you tell Dumbledore if you knew anything about your father that might be important," Draco's head rocked back,

            "I don't know anything Hermione,"

            "Maybe you do," he looked at her, she wasn't making sense,

            "I don't,"

            "Are you sure?  Maybe there is something, something small, something you don't think it is important.  Anything might help Malfoy,"

            "You want me to help you…capture my father?" she nodded, he sighed,

            "Well I can't.  Like I said I don't know anything,"

            "If you did," she took a step closer to him, "Would you tell…me?" his eyes slid closed and he took a deep breath.  She gasped slightly and he opened his eyes to see her staring up at him, the empty feeling inside faded as he sank into her eyes,

            "Yes, I would tell you," he let the moment drag out, happy just to look at her.  Then something tingled in the back of his mind, he heard a noise behind him and spun round,

            "What is it?" she asked, his eyes darted from shelf to shelf, searching for the source of the sound,

            "Did you hear that?"

            "No, I didn't hear anything," he stepped away from her and started to push his senses out, certain that something was wrong.  He concentrated and started to feel the presence of the Ether when his thoughts evaporated.  Hermione took hold of his head, turning him to face her as she leaned up and kissed him.

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            Hermione's eyes were drawn to the door as it opened silently behind Malfoy.  She couldn't stop the tiny gasp of fear when she saw Harry step into the room,

"Keep him busy," he mouthed, stepping aside to allow Ron to enter.  Malfoy opened his eyes and looked at her,

"Yes, I would tell you," he answered her question.  He stared into her eyes, it was like he was staring into her very soul, and allowing her to see into his.  He was telling her the truth, any doubts she might have had vanished.  Behind him, she was dimly aware of Ron moving, raising his wand.  Malfoy frowned and turned round, Ron and Harry ducked to the side.  They barely got out of sight behind a bookshelf before Malfoy could see them.  He had heard them come in.  Her mind raced, keep him busy, Harry had told her, but how?  She had to distract him, keep him from seeing Harry and Ron before they were ready to disable him.  The last thing they wanted was a fire fight in the library.  They needed to do this quietly if it was going to work.  So what could she do?  'Play dumb, talk to him.  Nothing is wrong here,'

"What is it?" she fought to keep her voice level and calm,

"Did you hear that?" he asked, she could hear the edge in his voice.  He stepped away and looked around, searching the shadows.  It was only a matter of seconds before he would see them, they couldn't hide for long.  If he spotted them, all hell would break loose.  She panicked, she couldn't let him see them, she had to do something, anything to distract him.  An idea came to her, she didn't think, didn't even consider it for more than an instant before she stepped forward, turned him round and kissed him.  She felt him jump slightly in surprise as her lips pressed into his.  After a moment, he leaned into her to return the kiss.  She released his head and let her arms snake around his neck.  Her mind drifted, the sensation of the kiss pushed all thoughts away.  She was so caught up that she was surprised when he suddenly tensed then went limp.  She pulled back and opened her eyes to see him buckle and slump unconscious to the floor.

Hermione looked up as Harry lowered his wand, both he and Ron were staring at her,

"What were you doing?" Ron sounded confused.  Hermione thought, tried to come up with an answer, what had she been doing?

"He…I…he was going to see you, I had to do something," she managed eventually,

"You were kissing Malfoy!" he spat the name, obviously disgusted by the idea.  Hermione looked at the unconscious Malfoy, she felt a dull pain in her heart seeing him like that.  Her eyes moved back to Ron, and then to Harry.  Ron looked disgusted, Harry's face bore no expression,

"You," she stammered, "You said to keep him busy," Harry stepped forward and rolled Malfoy over with his foot, checking to see that he really was out cold,

"I did," he looked up at her, "But that wasn't quite what I had in mind Hermione," she opened her mouth to say something before she realised that she had nothing to say.  She shrugged,

"It was all I could think of," Ron didn't look happy, she shook her head and turned away from him, not wanting to look at him anymore, him or Malfoy.  She moved over to the table and started to pack up the notes and books.  Behind her, she heard Harry grunt as he picked Malfoy up,

"Take his legs will you?" he asked, she assumed the question was directed at Ron so she didn't turn round, "Ron!"  Harry repeated, "Get his legs,"  Hermione finished packing her things and started to clear up Malfoy's, listening to the sounds of the boys hefting Malfoy from the floor,

"Heavy son of a bitch isn't he?" Harry grunted, there was a clatter on the floor behind her as Harry tossed Malfoys wand at her,

"Yeah," was the barely intelligible response.  Hermione bent to pick up the wand.  She stuffed it into Malfoy's bag and fastened the straps.  Picking up her own bag, she hesitated before turning round.  Malfoy had told her he didn't know anything and she believed him, but she knew all too well that Harry wouldn't and neither would Ron.  They weren't going to stop now that they had started, it was too late.  She turned round, Malfoy was rigid, Harry and Ron had put a spell on him to make it easier for them to carry him.  Harry looked over at her, then jerked his head toward the door,

"Hermione," he grunted, the effort of holding Malfoy clearly evident in his voice, "Go on, and check to see that the coast is clear," she looked at Malfoy as she moved forward.  Ron glared at her as she passed him and opened the door.  She looked down the corridor in both directions, there was nobody in sight,

"All clear," she turned back and beckoned them out, "Come on, before someone comes."

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            Etean yawned and rubbed his eyes before re-reading the report again.  It didn't get any better,

            "I hate politicians," he said to himself.  In Etean's opinion, all politicians should be locked up, kept away from normal people so as not to inflict their ridiculous opinions on anyone else.  He laughed, 'They probably wouldn't even object, just so long as they were allowed to debate the issue amongst themselves.'  His eyes scanned the page again before he dropped it and picked up another from the pile, it said the same thing.  The Council were aware of a sudden trend in the Death Eater attacks, more and more of them were being directed at members or ex members.  The other Council members were worried about the situation, as evidenced by the seemingly endless pile of information they had gathered.  They had really been working hard trying to figure out what was going on, there were over fifty sheets of parchment devoted to their investigations.  Reports, theories, speculations and wild guesses but, when it boiled down to it, nothing.  The Council members were all born politicians, they had no idea what was going on but it took them all of those fifty pages to say that.  They had taken the time and effort to compile this information and send it to him in an attempt to disguise just how clueless they were.  It amazed him, it really did that people as smart and experienced as they were could have such a problem with the simple phrase - 'I don't know.'

            Etean dropped the parchment and scratched his head.  He checked his watch, it was nearly midnight, Draco should be here by now.  'Probably distracted by Hermione again,' that thought was a bad idea, he instantly felt a wave anger rise in him as he thought about her, followed quickly by a rising pain in his head,

            "Fuck," he whispered and conjured his potion to relieve the pain.  Setting thoughts of Hermione aside, he stood up and piled the parchment neatly on the table.  He set his fist on top of the pile, pressing his ring into them.  The parchment glowed and started to shrink.  It slowly vanished from sight and he lifted his hand to reveal the small silver coin that Regal had brought him.  He picked it up and started to roll it between his fingers.  'So, they know something is going on but they don't know what,' he mused to himself, it was a problem and he knew it.  But, for the moment it didn't matter, Voldemort's final goal was still clear, they would just have to weather any other attacks as best they could.  They were safe for the moment, an attack on Hogwarts castle would take an army, and a hell of a big one at that and Voldemort didn't have those kinds of numbers…yet.  He frowned as he remembered Draco, he really should be here,

            "Where is he?" he asked himself.  He allowed his senses to expand, closing his eyes and enhancing his connection with Draco until he could sense where he was and what he was doing.  Images filled his mind, a room, a chair, a wand.

            "Brilliant!" he exclaimed as his eyes slammed open, he pocketed the coin and ran for the door, "Just fucking brilliant."

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            Pain woke Draco, a tight, binding pain across his chest.  He was cold, the air was freezing.  He opened his eyes to find himself face to face with a terrifying sight.  A snake's head was inches from his nose.  Its tongue flipped out as it tasted the air.  Draco looked around, he was in the Prefect's Common Room.  Weasley was sitting opposite him on the side of one of the armchairs.  A loud hissing sound filled the air, Potter moved around from behind him, strolling almost casually with his hands behind his back.  Draco looked at him as he opened his mouth and hissed again.  The snake turned to look at Potter then tightened its grip on Draco, causing him to scream in pain,

            "I see we're awake then," Potter sounded cold,

            "What are you doing?" Potter turned round and looked at Weasley,

            "I just thought that you and I should have a little chat," Weasley glared at Draco,

            "Do we need to bother to explain what about?" Draco knew what it was about, suddenly Hermione's questions about his father were making sense.  He felt a surge of anger rise inside him,

            "You won't get away with this," he struggled against the snakes grip but couldn't free himself, "I'll have you expelled," Weasley laughed,

            "Expelled?  Will you listen to him," he stood up and advanced on Draco, wand in hand, "Go ahead, and make your threats Malfoy.  Soon you won't be in a position to threaten anyone anymore," he made to raise his wand but Potter reached out and stopped him, the two of them looked at one another for a moment before Weasley retreated to his seat.  Draco struggled again, Potter hissed something in Parsletongue as he turned round.  The snake tightened around Draco, he felt a stab of pain as one of his ribs gave way under the pressure and he howled in agony.  'Shut it Draco,' he scolded himself, 'Don't let _him_ beat you.'  He got himself under control as best he could, determined not to give Potter the satisfaction of seeing him suffer,

            "Now then," Potter's voice remained eerily calm, "I think this should be clear to you by now, but I'll spell it out all the same.  I am going to ask you questions and you are going to answer,"

            "I'm not answering any questions Potter," Potter raised an eyebrow,

            "Really?" he hissed, the snake crushed again, "I think you will.  Because you see, if you don't answer, or if I think you're lying to me…"

            "What?  What will you do then?" Draco tried and failed to make his voice sound confident.  Potter didn't answer, the snake turned to follow him as he turned and started to circle round Draco slowly,

            "Where is your father?" Draco laughed,

            "How the hell should I know?"

            "When was the last time you saw him?" Draco surged and fought to free himself,

            "Let me go," he hissed,

            "No," Potter moved back to stand in front of Draco again, he hissed and the snake crushed Draco still harder, bringing another scream, "Tell us how to find your father," Potter demanded as Draco quietened,

            "I told you I don't know," he struggled but the snake was just too strong, "I haven't a fucking clue where he is or what he's doing," Potter opened his mouth to say something but Weasley cut him off,

            "This is a waste of time," he marched round Potter and stood towering over Draco, "we can't pussy foot about with this shit.  He won't tell us unless we make him," he moved fast, Draco didn't even see his fist coming before he felt it connect with his jaw.  Stars exploded before his eyes as the force of the blow toppled the chair over.  The snake hissed loudly but didn't let him go as he landed on it,

            "Ron," Hermione's voice came from somewhere behind him, "You said you weren't going to hurt him,"

            "Stay out of this Hermione," Draco looked up, Weasley had his wand pointed in the air, at Hermione Draco guessed, "He is going to tell us the truth whether he wants to or not,"

            "Ron…" she started,

            "No Hermione, I'm warning you, stay out of this," he turned to Potter without lowering his wand, "Pick him up," Potter hesitated then moved round behind Draco and lifted him, chair and all upright.  Weasley turned to face him and levelled his wand at his chest.  "Now, you know the question Malfoy, I am not going to repeat it.  I am going to give you a chance, one chance only to answer it," Weasley paused, staring at Draco with absolute, undiluted hatred in his eyes.  Draco didn't answer.  Weasley nodded slightly, "Fine then," he drew a breath and tensed,

            "Ron no," Hermione shouted, Weasley spun to face her,

            "Impedimentia!" the curse shot over Draco's shoulder, he heard Potter gasp, Hermione didn't make a sound.  Weasley turned to back to him, they stared at each other for a moment before Weasley took aim at Draco's heart.  Draco tensed as Weasley roared,

            "CRUCIO!"

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Hermione got more and more uncomfortable with the situation as they travelled in silence through the corridors.  Part of her wanted to get caught, she didn't care about getting in trouble, this was a mistake.  They had passed the line between right and wrong and were still going, she grew more and more certain that this was going to get out of hand and soon.  She stopped at the top of a flight of steps when she heard Harry calling her,

"What?" she hissed as she turned back to look at him,

"Go ahead and check that the Prefects Common Room is empty," she nodded,

"Fine, wait here,"

"Hurry," he whispered as she turned to leave.  The door to the Common Room wasn't far, but the journey seemed to take forever, her head was spinning.  The door seemed really heavy as she pushed it open, 'Please, let there be someone here so we have to give this whole thing up,' but she was disappointed, the room was deserted.  She sighed and dumped her bag and Malfoys on the floor.  The air was freezing, the fire was out and someone had left one of the windows open.  She shivered and crossed to close it.  She reached out to the window and caught sight of her reflection in the glass, she froze.  It was almost like looking at someone else, a different person behind her own eyes stared back at her.  Her eyes seemed dark, angry.  It was as if they accusing her, as if she was accusing herself.  She trembled and turned to leave, running back out of the room and down the corridor.  She skidded to a halt at the staircase,

"Well," Harry asked her, "is it empty?" she nodded,

"Yes but Harry, we can't do this," he rolled his eyes,

"Hermione, we are doing this," he dropped Malfoy with a thump that made Hermione wince, "It's too late to turn back now," he said as he drew level with her, she shook her head,

"No, we can just erase his memory and go to bed and forget this whole mess," Harry moved forward, grabbing her by the shoulders and pressing her into the wall,

"Hermione, do you remember what I said this morning?"

"Yes but…"

"Well then," he interrupted her, "you remember why we are doing this.  I don't care if we can turn back, I am not going to,"

"Neither am I," Ron added,

"Right," Harry looked into her eyes, "but we need you Hermione, you said it yourself, neither of us can erase his memory.  You have to help us,"

"I…I don't want to hurt him," Ron growled and kicked at Malfoy,

"Hurt him?  Why the hell not?"  Harry raised a hand to silence him,

"We aren't going to hurt him Hermione," he leaned in closer to her, "If you help us…" he paused, she saw the change behind his eyes, this wasn't her friend talking to her now, not the boy she knew, "if you help us we won't have to," he smiled but there was no joy in it.  Hermione felt physically sick, she was sure she was going to collapse on the spot.  Harry's message was clear, they wouldn't have to hurt Malfoy if she helped them, but if she didn't help them, they would.  How could her friend put her in this position?

"Ok," she said, barely even managing a sound.  Harry nodded and stood up and nodded to Ron.  Together they hefted the motionless Malfoy and headed down the corridor.  Hermione trailed after them.

Inside the Common Room, Harry conjured a simple wooden chair and they sat Malfoy in it.  Ron raised his wand to bind him but Harry stopped him,

"Don't," Ron looked confused,

"We have to tie him up Harry," Harry smiled,

"I know but I have a better idea," he stepped back and pointed his wand at an empty part of the floor,

"Corpus Constrictum Exhumae," he said, a green flash shot from his wand and deposited a huge snake on the floor.  Ron and Hermione both retreated fast from it,

"Harry," she asked in disbelief, "What…" words failed her, Harry laughed,

"You aren't the only one who reads,"

"But…" he shrugged,

"I'm a Parslemouth Hermione, I may as well use my gift don't you think?" she stared at him in disbelief, he laughed again, "Don't worry," he said, "It isn't here for you," he looked at the snake and shouted an order in Parsletongue.  It turned to look at him for a moment before it slithered over to Malfoy and slowly coiled itself round and round him, binding him to the chair.  Harry hissed again and the snake stopped moving, turning its head to stare at Harry.  Hermione felt terrified as she saw it flex its huge body round Malfoy,

"You said you wouldn't hurt him,"

"For fuck's sake Hermione," Ron roared,

"Ron!" Harry shouted him down, he pointed to a chair, "Relax," Ron moved and sat down, Harry turned back to her, "I said I wouldn't hurt him, and I won't Hermione," his voice turned cold, "But I intend for him to think I will," she opened her mouth to object but he glared at her to cut her off, "Hermione!" his voice sounded angry before he paused to recover his control, "Look, if you don't want to be here, leave, go stand watch or something and let us get on with this," Hermione found herself unable to look him in the eye, something in his gaze scared her.  Her eyes moved to Ron, he was glaring at Malfoy with a hungry expression.  She looked at Malfoy, an icy hand closed on her heart as the realisation hit her.  She had led him into this trap, whatever happened to him was her fault.  She knew it was all her fault and she knew she couldn't stop it, she couldn't bear to watch what was coming,

"I'll be outside," she whispered and left.  She heard Ron say something to Harry as the door closed but she couldn't make it out.

The next few minutes were the longest and toughest of her life.  She lost track of how often she stepped away to get help, to report what was going on only to be stopped out of loyalty to her friends.  Malfoy screamed, it was muffled by the heavy door and by the silencing charm they had placed on the room.  If Hermione hadn't been standing right outside she wouldn't have heard it, but she did.  She grabbed the handle but stopped, fear stopped her.  Fear of Harry, fear of Ron, of what would happen, of what they would do if she tried to stop them kept her pinned to the spot, stuck in inaction.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.  She heard Ron shouting and then a loud crash.  She opened the door and ran inside,

"Ron," she screamed, tears flowing from her eyes, she looked at Harry, "You said you weren't going to hurt him,"

            "Stay out of this Hermione," Ron levelled his wand at her, stopping her in her tracks, "He is going to tell us the truth whether he wants to or not,"

            "Ron…" she started,

            "No Hermione, I'm warning you, stay out of this," Hermione looked down at Malfoy, he was lying on his side, pinned to the chair by Harry's snake, Ron's wand didn't move as he looked at Harry, "Pick him up," he ordered.  Harry looked at her, the same cold look in his eyes.  He moved and heaved the chair into an upright position.  Ron looked at Malfoy, "Now, you know the question Malfoy, I am not going to repeat it.  I am going to give you a chance, one chance only to answer it," Hermione could see the hatred in his eyes, she could almost feel it.  In a terrible moment of clarity, she realised what he was going to do, 'No, he can't do that,' her hand moved for her wand as he readied himself to cast the spell, "Fine then," her fingers closed on her wand and she lifted her arm to aim at him,

            "Ron no," she shouted, her wand drew level with him but he was too fast for her,

            "Impedimentia!" the curse hit her in the chest and paralysed her, she couldn't move, she couldn't speak, she was trapped, staring as Ron turned back to Malfoy,

            "CRUCIO!"

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            Etean left the dungeons and stopped, he knew where he was going, he knew where Draco was, the Prefect's Common Room.  His mind kicked into tactical mode, he visualised the journey, the corridors and stairs he would have to cover in order to get there – 'Too far, not enough time.'  Rapidly, he fought for an alternative, the night air made him shiver.  He turned to see the passage door ajar, and the open pathway behind it that led to the greenhouses.  The decision made he bolted out the door and stopped to get his bearings.  His eyes scanned the rows of windows of the castle above him, mentally he reached out to locate Draco's position relative to his.  His eyes settled on the window, it was open – perfect.

            Etean drew himself in, the contact with Draco faded as his mind grew smaller and simpler.  His skin tingled and started to contract as the transformation took hold.  He took a step forward and leapt into the air, spreading his arms as they shortened to become wings.  He felt his weight leave him as he reached the apex of his jump and he beat his wings, soaring into the sky.  Again and again he beat his wings, circling higher and higher until he was level with the Common Room.  He banked in the air and flew toward it, tucking his wings in to avoid the window frame he dropped to the floor.

            He pushed his mind and body back out, stretching to return to his normal shape.  The simple, animal mind vanished as his own grew again to replace it.  His senses pushed out and instantly sensed the same danger he had expected.  A momentary scan of the room told him all he needed to know about the situation.  He looked over to see Weasley levelling his wand at Draco, he didn't need to read his thoughts to know what he was planning to do.  'We'll see about that.'  Etean flicked his wrist and caught his wand as it flew out of his sleeve.  He aimed at Weasley's hand and fired the spell, not bothering with the incantation, his will alone was enough.  Weasley opened his mouth and managed to shout his incantation,

"CRUCIO!" before Eteans spell hit.  A smile spread across his lips as he saw Weasley's curse reflect back along his wand and hit him instead of Draco.  He dropped his wand and fell to the ground in agony as Etean stepped forward.  A flick of his wand sent a tiny spell at Draco, Etean watched the snakes head explode out of the corner of his eye as he turned his attention to other matters.  A glance at Hermione told him she was no threat, he could see she was paralysed, that left…

            "Drop it," he heard Potter shout as he spun round.  Potter's wand was inches from his throat but now that he had turned, his was in a similar threatening position.  Potter glared at him, apparently oblivious of Etean's wand, "I said drop it Etean," he repeated, Etean smiled,

            "I don't think so Potter," he flicked his wand, the tip glowed briefly, catching Potter's eye.  He tensed as he realised the danger he was in.  He set his face and stared at Etean again,

            "What the hell are you doing here?  This is nothing to do with you,"

            "No?" Etean shrugged and moved to the side, Potter turned to follow him, "Maybe it isn't.  But then again, maybe I have decided to make it my business," They continued to move in slow circles, neither taking their eyes off the other,

            "I'm warning you Etean, this is nothing to do with you,"

            "It's a bit late for warnings don't you think Potter.  I am here, I am in this now, so what are you going to about it?" Potter clenched his jaw,

            "Don't push me Etean," he shook slightly with anger, "Don't make me hurt you," Etean couldn't stop the laugh,

            "Hurt me?  You?" he shook his head, "No, Potter you won't hurt me,"

            "I wouldn't be so sure of that,"

            "Oh but I am sure Potter," they continued to circle, but now Etean was sure that Potter was only aware of him, he was blind to all else.  Etean sensed Draco standing, he was focussed on Hermione, his mind was in chaos but for now he wasn't a concern.  Weasley was disarmed and for the moment, out of it too.  Etean smiled at Potter, he had the upper hand and he knew it, "Do you want to know why I'm sure?"  Potter didn't answer, Etean hadn't really expected him to, he broadened his smile and extended himself to read Potter's mind, "It's simple really, you see there are only two kinds of people in this world Potter, those that act and those that hesitate, it's a cliché, but there it is,"

            "And you think I am one who hesitates?" Etean sensed Potter's emotions surge,

            "Well, if you weren't, you would have attacked me instantly, and we wouldn't be having this delightful conversation," he felt Potter's anger rise, it seemed he hated people talking down to him, "So, why don't you break what appears to be a habit of a lifetime and make an intelligent decision, put the wand away,"  Etean watched, he tracked the thoughts flashing behind Potter's eyes, he saw them ebb and surge and he saw the moment, the decision to act.

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            Weasley howled and fell back.  Draco looked over to see Etean emerge from the shadows.  'Where the hell did he come from?'  There was a flash from his wand, Draco shut his eyes as parts of the snakes skull bounced off his face, he could feel its cold blood spatter on his skin, the sensation revolted him.  He stretched his arms, lifting the remainder of the thing's corpse off him as he stood up, wincing in pain.  One or more of his ribs were definitely broken.  He was shaking, but with anger, not fear.  He lifted his left hand and wiped at the blood on his face, only succeeding in smearing it about.  He lowered his hand and stared at the blood on his fingers.  Anger filled him, all he knew was anger.  His eyes settled on Weasley, he was rolling on the floor in pain from his curse.  Draco stepped over the dead snake crossed the room to where Weasley's wand had landed, he picked it up and turned round. His eyes settled on Hermione, she was motionless, still held by Weasley's curse.  He hesitated, the pain in his gut returned, like a bottomless pit it sucked down all his anger, leaving him empty.  She was part of this, she had set him up for them to torture him.  He aimed at her and opened his mouth to curse her but the words stuck in his throat,

            "Finite!" was all he could say in the end.  The spell freed her and she slumped as her muscles relaxed.  She took a step toward him,

            "Mal…"

            "Don't," he tensed, her eyes travelled to the wand, then back to him,

            "I'm sorry," she said quietly, he could see her lip start to shake.  He turned away, not able to look at her anymore,

            "Get out of here," he said quietly, she stepped forward again, "I SAID GET OUT," he roared, turning to glare at her.  Hermione stopped in her tracks, she opened her mouth to say something, then her eyes widened as a spell came out of nowhere and detonated on her stomach.  Draco stared in disbelief as she fell to the floor unconscious, he looked back to see Potter bounce over an armchair.  Etean turned to face him and lowered his wand.

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            Etean saw the decision to act settle in Potters mind.  What he was planning to do, what curse he was going to use was irrelevant, it wasn't going to work.  Etean heard Draco screaming behind him as he saw Potter prepare to cast his curse, he reached out and slowed time just enough to allow him dodge to the side.  Potter roared,

            "Stupefy!" the curse passed inches from his neck and continued on.  Etean heard it detonate and he saw Potter's jaw drop open in surprise before he flicked his wand at him and sent him flying across the room.  Etean turned round, Hermione was lying unconscious on the floor.  A quick check of Draco's mind as he lowered his wand told him what had just happened.  It was unplanned, but not the end of the world.  He stepped forward,

            "She'll live," he answered the question that Draco was about to ask.  He nodded in the general direction of where Potter had landed, "So will he," Weasley sat up, both Etean and Draco took aim at him instantly.  Weasley glared at Draco, then at Etean,

"Go on then," he spat, "finish me off why don't you?" Etean looked up to see Draco looking at him, the question was obvious.  He shrugged,

"Your call mate," Draco looked at him and raised an eyebrow.  He looked down at Weasley.  Etean watched as Draco thought it out, he tensed, Weasley braced himself, but Draco didn't fire,

"I am not my father," he said and tossed Weasley's wand back to him.  Weasley caught it and aimed it at the now unarmed Draco, Etean whistled to remind him that he was still there.  Reluctantly he lowered it again.  Draco shook his head and looked at Etean,

"Let's get out of here," he turned, pausing over the unconscious Hermione for a moment before picking up his bag from the floor and leaving.  Weasley bounced to his feet as Etean moved past him,

"You shouldn't have interfered," he growled, "but I suppose you Slytherin bastards always stick together," Etean stopped and turned round,

"I stand by my friends Weasley,"

"Your friend is defending a murderer," Etean shook his head,

"No, he's not,"

"His father…"

"Oh save it Weasley," Etean shouted him down, "I know who and what his father is and I also know that he is NOT his father.  If he was," he turned to leave, "he would have killed you tonight," Etean stepped over Hermione, not able to hide a smile as he saw her unconscious body.  It had been an accident, he didn't intend for her to be caught in the crossfire, but…life had its little bonuses.


	30. The Aftermath

The world spun and twisted as Hermione became aware of herself again. She opened her eyes then shut them tight again when she saw just how much the swirling shape of someone standing over her was spinning. She heard a voice but it made no sense. 'Where am I?' she thought but the answer wouldn't come. She was sore, everything hurt. She tried to take a deep breath but the pain in her ribs stopped her. The pain shot through her and woke her up. Her eyes slammed open and she sat up, her head collided with Ron's, adding to her misery,

"Ow," she cried, rubbing her eyebrow. She looked over as Ron sat back, rubbing a similar injury,

"I take it you're awake then," he grumbled. Hermione scowled and crossed her arms across her stomach, that hurt too,

"Shit," she hissed, lifting her arm away, "What happened?" Ron shook his head,

"I don't know," he looked up over her head, she turned to see Harry leaning heavily on an armchair, looking as bad as Hermione felt, "Etean," Ron continued, "he came out of nowhere," Hermione shut her eyes, replaying the events in her head. She was trapped, Ron had paralysed her, all she could do was watch as he took aim to torture Malfoy. Then Etean appeared, she remembered seeing him step out of the shadows. He blocked Ron's curse somehow, freed Malfoy then turned on Harry. Malfoy got up, she could see Etean and Harry standing at the end of each other's wands. Malfoy moved past her, she remembered looking at him as he picked up Ron's wand and aimed it at her. His eyes! She remembered his eyes as he looked at her, she had seen the anger and pain in them. For a moment, she thought he might kill her, but instead he released her from Ron's curse and told her to leave. The sound of his voice chilled her to the bone, she was going to say something to him but…her eyes opened,

"Did Etean knock me out?" Ron shrugged,

"No," Harry's voice sounded groggy as she turned to look at him, "I did," he looked at her from beneath his drooping eyelids,

"You did?" Ron barked, starting to sound angry again, Harry looked at him,

"I didn't mean to," he shut his eyes and rubbed his neck, clearly stiff, "I was aiming at Etean," he shrugged, "I missed,"

"You missed?" Ron stood and stepped round Hermione to get closer to Harry, "He was right in front of you wasn't he? How could you miss?" Harry lowered his head and rubbed his eyes,

"I don't know, he was right there. I was practically stabbing him with my wand. I fired the curse and he just wasn't there. He stepped aside and the spell," he looked down at Hermione, "hit you, sorry," he didn't sound sorry, Hermione felt anger boil inside her,

"Sorry?" she stood up, wincing in pain as her stomach complained, "That's it? You stun me and all I get is 'sorry'? You could sound a bit more concerned," he shook his head,

"I am concerned and I am sorry," it sounded more genuine this time but Hermione was too mad to care and getting madder by the second. Harry tried to stand up but fell back hard into the chair, he sighed in frustration and shook his head hard, trying to clear it, "If Etean hadn't dodged…"

"You would have hit him and not me," she interrupted, not bothering to keep her voice down, "Is that supposed to make it all better or something?" Harry shook his head,

"He shouldn't have been here in the first place," he looked around at the shadows and dark corners, "Where did he come from anyway?" He looked back at Ron, "We couldn't have missed him, could we?" Ron shook his head,

"No, I don't think so," he looked over to where Etean had appeared and frowned, "One minute he wasn't there, and then he was," he looked down at Harry, "You OK?" Harry nodded,

"I think I will be," he shook his head again, this time he managed to stand up but he was still shaky, "I don't know what he hit me with but it did the trick," Ron turned to her,

"How about you, are you alright?" Hermione looked into his eyes and felt dizzy as a wave of anger threatened to explode out of her,

"Am I alright?" her fingers closed into fists as she looked at him, "What the hell do you care?" he opened his mouth to respond but she didn't want to hear it. She raised her fists and ground them into her eye sockets, rubbing away the tears that were starting to form there. She turned away, she had to be alone. She needed to get away from them, both of them. She was sure if she stayed there, looking at either of them for a moment longer she would lose it completely. Pausing only to grab her bag from the floor she bolted from the room and ran towards the dorm. Behind her she heard them calling her name but she ignored them.

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The water poured over Draco, he reached out and turned the taps, increasing the heat and pressure of the shower. He lowered his head and watched the last of the snake's blood disappear down the plug hole. All he could think of was Hermione, and the kiss. He hadn't seen it coming, at the time he had had no idea why she had done it, and he hadn't cared. For a moment, all too brief a moment he had been happier than he had been since…well for as long as he could remember. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, certain that he could still taste her. The heat from the water poured over his face and stung his skin. Anger rose up inside him. He was angry at her for leading him into Potter and Weasley's little trap, and angrier at himself for allowing the belief, even the hope that there could ever be anything between them other than enmity to enter his mind.

He felt the anger surge inside him and he punched the wall. He felt the impact, not from his fist, the pain didn't register there, but the force of the blow travelled up his arm to jar his shoulder. Without opening his eyes he drew his hand back and punched again, and again. Over and over he slammed his fist into the wall until his shoulder ached so badly that he could barely lift his arm. He opened his eyes, the tile on the wall was broken and cracked, large chunks of it had broken free and lay scattered by his feet. Blood, his own blood he presumed was running down the wall, quite a lot of it.

Draco looked down at his hand, a large jagged chunk of tile was pretty heavily embedded in his knuckle. As he looked at it, he was surprised to realise that it actually hurt. He grasped it and pulled, it took some doing but he managed to tug it free. The metal exoskeleton over his knuckle was twisted and snapped, touching it hurt. He frowned as he realised that the pain he felt was from the metal, not his flesh. He shut his eyes, his dead flesh. Then he remembered, dead flesh could feel no pain. Looking at it, there could be no doubt, the wound on his hand was viscous, he could see down to the bone of his knuckle. It hurt, but nowhere near as much as it should. He actually laughed at the sensation of pain in his hand before the empty feeling in his gut sucked that away too. He stared at his hand, the cut looked really bad. He pressed his fingers into the skin around the wound, he could feel a piece of tile still inside. His knuckle was bleeding heavily and showed no signs of stopping. He squeezed it, trying to dislodge the remaining chunk, but only succeeded in stabbing the tip of his left thumb on a jagged corner of the exoskeleton. That did hurt,

"Great, this day just gets better and better," he stopped the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it with some difficulty about his waist. Draco crossed the bathroom and turned on the tap over the sink to rinse the blood from his hand. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, the bruising around his ribs looked pretty bad, but not near as bad as it had been half an hour ago before he got into the shower. His body was healing fast, 'Shame my hand doesn't though,' he sighed and looked down at his hand again. He could just make out the hunk of porcelain under his skin. Thirty seconds of concentrated digging and pulling at his skin later and he managed to dig it out. The cut continued to bleed profusely, he picked up a hand towel and wrapped it around his forearm before leaving the bathroom and heading down the hall to his bedroom. Inside he saw Etean pacing, showing no signs of getting ready for bed. Crabbe or Goyle gave a loud snore as Etean turned to look at him,

"Feel better?" he asked, his tone sounded as flat and calm, Draco shook his head,

"Not really," Etean's eyes darted to the towel,

"What happened?" Draco looked down, apparently the few seconds it had taken him to travel the corridor were enough for the blood to soak through the towel. It had been white, not anymore. Draco paused to ensure that Crabbe and Goyle were out cold before he dropped the towel and held his hand up,

"I got in a fight," Etean laughed,

"I think it's safe to say the wall won," Draco shrugged,

"Looks that way," Etean pointed at his hand and twitched his fingers. A tiny flash of light shot out of his hand and engulfed Draco's, the wound vanished. Draco looked at it, even the metal fibres had been repaired,

"Thanks," Draco whispered as he lowered his hand. Etean turned and headed for the door, "Where are you going?" Etean shrugged,

"Nowhere, I just don't exactly feel like sleep at the moment," he moved to the side to pass by Draco, he raised his arm and stopped him, "What?" Etean asked quietly,

"I wanted to thank you," he frowned,

"You already did,"

"No, I mean for earlier," Etean smiled,

"Oh that, don't worry about it,"

"But if you hadn't arrived when you did…" Etean raised his fist and thumped Draco gently on the shoulder,

"Just doing my job Draco," he moved off, Draco stared at the floor,

"Still, thanks," he said but Etean had already shut the door behind him.

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"Hermione wait," Ron called after her for the hundredth time as she ran at full speed up the stairs, ignoring the aching pain in her chest and stomach. She didn't answer, didn't so much as glance back at him. She didn't stop or slow down until she reached the Fat Lady's portrait. She stood on the landing and hesitated, her mind was so messed up that she couldn't remember the password,

"Damn it, what is it?" she hissed to herself. Ron's footsteps were getting louder, he was nearly here, "What is the damned password?" she felt the tears start to fall again, the Fat Lady turned to her,

"I sorry my dear, that is what you are supposed to tell me after all isn't it?" Hermione looked up at her smiling face in confusion,

"What?"

"The password dear? You are supposed to tell me," Hermione wiped her eyes and shook her head,

"I know, I'm just thinking. Trying to remember it,"

"Well," she yawned, "try and hurry up dear so I can get back to sleep," Hermione, mind spun, trying to think straight,

"Hermione," she spun round as Ron arrived beside her, she drew back from him on instinct. He stopped, "Please listen to me, I want to explain…to say I'm sorry," Hermione gawped at him,

"You're sorry? For what?" she tried to make her voice sound hard, but it didn't sound hard enough. Ron stood there with his mouth open for a second before he answered,

"I'm sorry I hexed you. I…I don't know what came over me." Anger flooded over her, she advanced on him,

"You don't know what came over you?" she tried to make her voice sound even harsher as she felt the tremble in her lip, "You stupid bastard,"

"Hermione…"

"Don't," she raised a hand to slap him, but froze mid motion, too angry to move, "Just don't," her voice was shaking, her breath was ragged and stuttered, "I don't want to hear it. Rose petal!" she remembered the password. Ron seemed surprised by it until he saw the Portrait Hole open. Hermione spun on her heel and marched inside. Not waiting or pausing in the Common Room, she ignored Ron calling her and headed up the girls stairs to her room. She stopped outside her dorm with her hand extended at the doorknob, it was shaking. Her whole body was trembling with anger and, she realised, fear. She was sore, her chest ached and her stomach burned, her _friends_ had hit her harder than she thought. Her fingers closed to a fist as she felt the tears start again, remembering what had just happened. The image of Malfoy in that chair filled her mind and tore at her heart. Had that thing hurt him? If it had it was her fault. She felt herself start to shake harder, she knew she was about to lose control of herself completely. She opened the door and darted inside, not bothering to undress before she hurled herself onto her bed and tugged the curtains closed, isolating her from the outside world.

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The sun had completely cleared the horizon before Hermione was aware of the room getting brighter. She was tired, her eyes stung with the tears she had cried. She had spent the entire night staring at the canopy over her bed, unable to sleep, barely even able to blink. Every time she closed her eyes she saw them, the two silver discs of Draco's eyes as he looked at her. His face had faded, she no longer saw anything but his eyes, but from them she couldn't escape. Like a moth to a flame they drew her in, stripped away her defences and left her nowhere to hide.

Hermione sat up, wincing at the pain in her stomach, the pain perplexed her. She pulled up her shirt to reveal her stomach and could just make out what appeared to be a wicked burn on her skin where Harry's curse had hit. She frowned, 'That's not right, it was only a stunner,' she thought to herself. Stunner spells hurt, they knocked you out and disorientated you, but the pain faded quickly and they weren't supposed to leave a mark. She turned and pulled back the curtains, grimacing in pain with the effort, her chest hurt too. Her trembling fingers struggled to undo her shirt. Lavender gave a loud snore and turned over in her bed, reminding Hermione that she wasn't alone. Somehow she didn't want Lavender, or anyone else for that matter to see any evidence of her injuries. She stood and grabbed her towel.

Once inside the bathroom, behind the locked door, she undressed, wincing at each movement. She pulled her robes off and dropped them to the floor as she started on her shirt. Once it was off, she surveyed the damage in the mirror, her mouth dropped open at the sight. The left side of her stomach was covered in a glaring red scorch mark. Deep red jagged lines spread out from it, contrasting harshly with her pale skin. The spot in the middle of her chest where Ron's paralysing charm had hit was hidden beneath nasty, purple bruise. It looked as if he had punched her instead of merely rendering her immobile. The pain in her stomach was worse but actually touching either spot hurt.

Confused, she finished undressing and stepped into the shower, careful not to touch her wounds as she washed herself. Feeling a bit better she stepped out of the shower and picked up her towel to dry off. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and froze. Something was wrong, her reflection didn't look right. It was her, but it wasn't. Hermione stepped forward and reached out to touch the mirror, suddenly startled when she realised that her reflection wasn't doing the same. The Hermione that was looking back at her didn't move, she just stared out from the glass, her expression was sad. Finally she reached up to touch the mirror in the same way that Hermione was. Hermione watched as a single tear spilled out of her reflection's eye and ran down her cheek. She dropped her towel and raised her hand to touch her face, it was wet from the shower but she wasn't crying. The face in the mirror continued to stare at her, it felt more and more like she was looking at someone else.

A knock at the door distracted her, she heard Pavarti call to use the bathroom. On instinct she looked over at the back of the door,

"Be out in a minute," she said and looked back to the mirror. Her reflection, her real reflection looked back at her. Whatever had been there was gone. Now the face in the mirror matched her movements just as a reflection should. Pavarti knocked again and shouted for her to hurry up, she scooped up her robes and dropped them into the laundry before wrapping her towel around her and opening the door,

"About time," Pavarti pushed past her, "You've been in here for ages,"

"Sorry," Hermione said automatically, her eyes drawn back to the mirror,

"Is something wrong?" Pavarti sounded confused,

"No…well maybe," she turned to Pavarti, "Have you ever seen anything…strange in that mirror?" Pavarti frowned and looked at the mirror. She smiled as she admired her own image, she frowned and shook her head,

"No, why?" Hermione shook her head,

"No reason, I must just be tired is all,"

"Oh right so," Pavarti paused and stared at her, raising her eyebrow,

"What?" Hermione asked, Pavarti sighed and pushed her back, inadvertently pressing her fingers into the bruise on Hermione's chest. With a lot of effort, she managed not to let the pain show. Once Pavarti had moved her outside the door she stepped back,

"Excuse me," she sighed and shut the door. Hermione shook her head and turned to head for her dorm. Ten minutes later, she was dressed and heading for the Common Room. Ron jumped to his feet and turned to her as she entered,

"Hermione," she heard him call but she ignored him. She avoided even looking at Harry as he too stood up. Putting her head down she blasted right past them, nearly running over Ginny on the way out of the Common Room,

"Ouch," Ginny exclaimed as Hermione accidentally trod on her foot,

"Sorry Gin," she stopped to make sure that she was alright, "I didn't see you there,"

"Really?" Ginny rubbed her ankle for a moment then stood up, "Where were you off to in such a hurry anyway?" Hermione shrugged, she tried to keep her voice even,

"Oh, just hungry I guess," she turned and headed off down the stairs. She knew Ron and Harry wouldn't be far behind her and she really didn't want to talk to them. Ginny bounced down the stairs to keep up with her,

"So, where were you all last night?" panic washed over Hermione. Did Ginny know?

"What?" she sounded a little more scared than she wanted to, Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise,

"Well, you weren't with Harry and Ron, they spent most of the evening bent over a game of chess. And you weren't in your room, I checked there,"

"You were looking for me?" Ginny shrugged,

"No, not really, I was just at a loose end," she sounded a bit disappointed, "I thought we might hang out or something. Where were you anyway?"

"In the Library," it took all her effort to keep her voice even, "studying," Ginny seemed shocked, she acted it anyway,

"Studying? What is with everybody studying? Merlin's sake Hermione it's still September,"

"I have a project due on Friday," inside Hermione relaxed, this conversation she was used to having, "besides, this is an important year and I can't afford to be left behind," Ginny scoffed,

"Yeah, like that'll ever happen. You're top of your class Hermione. And besides, you say every year is important,"

"That's because they are, and if I am top of the class, it is only because I've worked hard,"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before Hermione so can you spare me," Ginny sighed, Hermione rolled her eyes. They continued down in silence until they reached the first floor landing. Hermione froze as she saw Etean enter from the dungeons. Millicent Bulstrode was fawning all over him. Beside her, she was surprised to see Ginny had stopped too, she was staring at Etean and Millicent with a strange expression on her face. Etean looked up as they continued down to the Entrance Hall, he was looking at Ginny but for a moment his gaze rested on her. She could clearly see the flash of anger behind his eyes for an instant before he buried it. She didn't blame him for being mad at her, she was mad at herself for what she had done but the look in his eyes startled her.

Etean turned his attention to Ginny, he smiled and waved Millicent off as he stopped to talk to her. Ginny scowled, not looking very pleased as she spoke to him, until he leaned in close to her and whispered something in her ear. She punched him playfully in the chest and barked out a laugh. Hermione watched as they continued to laugh and flirt with one another. After a moment she became uncomfortable, she felt eyes on her. She looked over to see Malfoy standing at the top of the dungeon stairs, looking at her. The same silver eyes she had seen all night drilled into her. He didn't move or speak, he just stood there watching her. Etean and Ginny moved off, Ginny either didn't know or didn't care that Hermione was no longer beside her. Malfoy stepped forward, walking slowly toward her. She could see the anger in his expression. Breathing became hard, she felt as if someone had sucked the air from her lungs. She wanted to apologise, to explain to him how much she regretted what she had done but the words wouldn't come out. He reached into his bag and pulled out a crumpled bundle of parchment,

"Here," his voice sounded hollow, she opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off, "Don't, I really don't want to talk to you," he shook the parchment, inviting her to take it, "This is all the notes and ideas I had for the remainder of our project. You'll understand that I don't want to spend any more time around you working on it but it is due on Friday and I can do without Vector breathing flames at me. So I suggest _you_ finish the essay yourself and hand it in, _I'll_ do the presentation," he stared at her, she opened her mouth again but he shut his eyes and ground his teeth, "Just do it Granger," he stuffed the parchment into her hand and marched off.

Hermione felt tears coming again, she shut her eyes and took a series of deep breaths to try and get herself under control,

"What did he want?" Ron's voice ground on her nerves, she opened her eyes and glared at him before turning to head into the Great Hall. She felt his hand close on her shoulder, "Hermione listen…" he called. She spun round, knocking his arm away,

"No Ron, just leave me alone will you?"

"Please…" he started, lifting his arms to grab her again, she batted his hands down and stepped back,

"I don't want to hear it Ron," he stared at her for a moment before she turned to leave. No longer hungry she headed out the doors and out into the grounds. She was halfway to Hagrid's hut before she remembered that she was still holding Malfoy's notes. His voice repeated inside her head, 'Just do it Granger,'…Granger, not Hermione. She was Granger to him again. The way he had said it was the same way he had always said it, like it was the worst insult he could throw at her. She had always hated hearing him say her name like that, it always sounded nasty. He had despised her for no good reason since they met, and she had been more than willing to return the favour. But recently things had been different, he was different. Something, something she didn't fully understand had changed in him. His mask of arrogant bravado didn't seem to fit him anymore, she could see the cracks. Spending time alone with him, she was certain that there were times when he let the act drop completely, letting her see the real Malfoy. The real Malfoy had managed to get past all the prejudices and actually start treating her like a person instead of something he had stepped in. He had even started using her name, her first name. Something he had never done before, and he hadn't used it like an insult. When he said her name, it sounded like he talking to someone he liked, someone he respected. Nothing she could think of could highlight the change in him any clearer than that.

And what had she done in return? Her fist clenched in anger, crushing the parchment into a tiny ball. She stopped and dropped down to sit on a large boulder and stared into the horizon. She had betrayed him, led him into a trap. She had stood there and distracted him to let Ron and Harry sneak up on him, she had watched as Harry set that monster on him. By the time she had worked up the courage to even try to stop them it had been too late. If it hadn't been for Etean, if he hadn't stopped him, Ron would have used the Cruciatus curse, the single worst torture imaginable, on Malfoy. If he had…if Etean had been one second later…She shut her eyes and blinked back the tears, fighting hard to stop her overactive imagination from running away with her.

The wind coming off the lake was cold, she shivered and checked her watch, it was nearly time for Transfiguration. She opened out Malfoy's notes and dropped them into her bag as she stood up and headed back to the castle. She sighed, at least attending class would give her something else to think about.

_A/N: And we have passed the 100 reviews mark – yippee._

_OK, some of you were apparently confused as to what actually happened at the end of the last chapter – you should get it now, but if not…sorry, you'll have to struggle on regardless._

_Second question, how did Etean get there? … erm did you guys even read chapter 11? If not read it now, that should help you out._


	31. A Care Package

Hermione felt sick, her stomach was churning. She always felt ill when she was nervous and she was nervous now. The thought of standing in front of the whole class and delivering Malfoy's presentation terrified her. She picked up his notes again and scanned them, trying to memorise the points he had set down. It was complicated, apparently he had made a lot of effort on this presentation. She doubted she could do it justice with no time to practice. She was going to mess this up and she knew it. Still, Professor Vector had to give her some leeway, this was not a good situation and it wasn't as if Malfoy had planned on missing class. Her eyes darted to the teachers desk and the Professor. Vector didn't seem to be paying any attention to the presentations at all, she was staring off into space. It wasn't hard to guess what she was thinking about – Malfoy!

Thinking about Malfoy made her feel even worse, she couldn't imagine what he was going through, maybe she didn't want to. She hadn't actually seen what was in that box, but her imagination was doing fine on its own, and that was just making her nausea worse. Her eyes settled on a small doodle in the corner of one of the cards, a dragon twisted and coiled into a jagged letter 'M'. Looking at it brought back the strange sensation of deja-vu that had dogged her all morning. Had she really seen this moment coming? Had the dream been real? The crest was drawn onto the card exactly as she remembered it from the dream, exactly! She knew it was impossible, even ridiculous but the realistic part of her was all but certain that her dream had been real, she had seen the future.

Dragging her mind back to the present, she ran her thumb across the drawing on the card. Looking at it, Hermione recognised the Malfoy family crest from his cufflinks. He had told her that being Malfoy was all he knew, it was all he was. What did that make him now? She set the cards down and held her breath as her stomach churned with renewed vigour. There was a round of applause as Justin and Hannah finished their presentation. Hermione hadn't heard a word of it but she joined in with the applause anyway, it was only polite. There was only one more presentation to go before it was her turn. Her attention returned to the notes in front of her, 'Gotta sort this mess out,' she said to herself. The class continued to show their appreciation for Justin and Hannah. The sound of each clapping hand rocked her. 'How long are they going to applaud them for?' The noise of the class clapping was getting louder.

Hermione shut her eyes against the noise, it continued to drone on. The sound started to hurt her head. She winced in pain as it started to gain rhythm, buzz…buzz…buzz. Her eyes opened as she realised it was her alarm going off. It was time to get up. She was lying in her bed. The card, the presentation had been a dream. She lay there playing it again. Her dreams were definitely becoming more and more vivid. She scratched her head and got up.

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Etean, Draco and Pansy walked along the corridor that led from the Slytherin dorm to the stairs. Pansy was prattling on and on about something or other, Etean tuned her out, adding the odd nod or grunt to feign interest. He looked at Draco strolling beside him, he too was completely ignoring Pansy's attempts at conversation but he wasn't even trying to seem interested. His attention was firmly on the stack of note cards he had in his hand. Etean knew what they were for, Draco had a presentation to deliver this morning. He could sense how tense Draco was even though he tried to hide it. He had claimed that whatever fascination he had had about Hermione was over, but Etean didn't believe him for a second. He knew all too well from personal experience just how hard it was to forget that girl once she was under your skin. He shook his head as he climbed the stairs, this was one situation that he definitely could not help Draco deal with, there was nothing he could do short of physically realigning his mind to _make_ him forget about her and he respected him too much to do that. No, Draco would have to cope with this on his own as best as he could.

They entered the Great Hall and headed to the Slytherin table. Etean looked over and caught Ginny's eye as he sat down. He winked at her, she blushed slightly and smiled back at him. He held eye contact for a moment before a familiar sound filled the air and distracted him. He turned and looked at the ceiling as Regal dropped like a stone through one of the openings. Etean watched as with a mighty screech he fell down and just barely managed to arrest his dive before hitting the ground,

"Great," he heard Pansy exclaim behind him, "It's back," Etean turned to glare at her,

"Regal is not an _it_," he let his tone fill with ice as he raised his arm and whistled. He held his stare into her eyes, watching them water with effort until he felt Regal land, his claws dug into his forearm, causing the merest twinge of pain,

"Hello boy," he turned back to stroke Regal's feathers, "No post this time eh?" Regal ruffled his feathers and nipped at Etean's hand before turning his head to stare at the pile of bacon on the table. Etean laughed, "Hungry boy?" he asked as he set the bird down. Regal wasted no time in attacking the food. Etean didn't bother to suppress the smirk when he saw how the other Slytherins drew back in fear. Millicent appeared behind him and sat down next to him before she even saw Regal. Based on the look on her face, she probably regretted not paying more attention,

"Is he…dangerous?" Etean looked at her and raised an eyebrow,

"He's an eagle Millicent, not a teddy bear" he reached out and tugged the strip of bacon that Regal was eating out of his beak, smiling as the bird lunged and snatched it back, "A born hunter," he lifted his hand and stroked Regal's head, "but he's not viscous,"

"Well," she raised a hand and hesitated, "can I touch him?" Etean cocked his head to the side,

"I'd say that's up to him wouldn't you?" he nodded to her. Millicent slowly extended her hand toward Regal. He turned to look at her, his beak opened and he puffed up his feathers, a gesture Etean recognised as a warning. He lifted his hand and stopped Millicent,

"Something tells me he doesn't like you," she dropped her hand,

"Oh," her voice sounded nervous, Regal continued to stare at her for a moment before returning to his breakfast, "he wont attack me will he?" Etean laughed,

"Not unless I tell him to," he laughed again at the look of horror in her eyes, "Relax, it's been at least a year since I set him on anyone," she laughed but Etean could tell it was false. She paused and looked down at the table,

"Erm Etean, could you pass me some bacon?" Etean picked up his fork and stabbed a couple of strips for her, keeping them out of Regal's reach as he passed them over. He heard Pansy's exasperated sigh and he turned to her,

"What's up with you?" she pointed at Draco, he was staring at his notes,

"It's like talking to a rock," Etean looked over at Draco, he apparently wasn't even really aware of them, he shrugged,

"Looks to me like he just has a lot on his mind," she rolled her eyes, Etean caught sight of Hermione entering the room out of the corner of his eye. Pansy saw her too,

"I know, and it's all Granger's fault," Etean felt the wave of emotion roll out from Draco, apparently he hadn't tuned the conversation completely. Etean spared him the tiniest sideways glance, his attention was still focussed on his notes, "Fancy the little mudblood bookworm making him do the presentation alone. He should have been excused from it anyway what with his injury and all," Pansy sounded sulky, Draco slapped the note cards down and looked at her,

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here Pansy," he growled, "I don't like it," Pansy stared at him for a moment,

"I was trying to talk to you, but you were ignoring me as usual," she pouted and folded her arms, Draco sighed and picked up his notes again,

"I'm not ignoring you, I'm just busy that's all," he started to read again, "And don't pout, it makes you look ugly." Etean looked over at him as he said that, his voice had been flat but it had an edge that he hadn't heard Draco use before. Pansy scowled and stabbed at her breakfast, stirring the food about but not eating any of it. Neither of them seemed in the mood for any conversation anymore so Etean turned away. His fingers idly ruffled Regal's feathers. Lacking any alternative, he turned to speak to Millicent before the noise of the mail arriving distracted him and he looked up. Regal ruffled his feathers and clicked his beak in disgust as over a hundred owls dropped into the room.

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"Ouch watch where you're going," Hermione hissed as she bounced off the banister. Pain exploded from her side as it hit the stone. The wound in her stomach didn't hurt nearly as bad as it had at first but the bustling of clumsy Gryffindors didn't help matters. Colin Creevy didn't even look back when she scolded him, she barely heard him shout,

"Sorry," over his shoulder as he ran ahead down the stairs. Hermione gingerly rubbed her side then froze, this was familiar. She had been here before, Colin had bumped into her before in that exact way. 'But,' she thought to herself, 'that was a dream.' She shook her head and looked around, everything was familiar, everything was the same. The crowd, the way they moved, the noise they made, everything. She had done this before too, she remembered walking down the stairs feeling the same eerie sense of familiarity. Her mind raced as she remembered the way she had remembered everything in the dream. Remembering that she remembered that she remembered that she…she shook her head to break out of the loop, 'No, it was just a weird dream, ignore it,' she settled her mind and continued down the stairs, trying to ignore the creepy feeling that was nagging at her mind.

Things got worse when she entered the Great Hall. Everyone was sitting exactly where they should be, the way she remembered seeing them. Of the sixth years, Lavender and Pavarti were closest to her, bent over a book that she was strangely certain would turn out to be a Divination text. Ron was further along the table sitting opposite Harry. Harry was focussed on his conversation with Neville and Dean. Ron looked up and stared at her as she headed over to the table to sit down beside Lavender. He watched her but didn't speak to her, something she was glad of. She was still too mad at him to speak to him. Thinking about Ron immediately turned her mind to Malfoy, her eyes instantly darted toward him. He was sitting hunched over with his back to her. She sighed and shook her head, trying to dislodge the hollow feeling in her chest. She looked down at the table, it was laden with food, a dozen different choices for breakfast. None of them interested her anymore.

THUNK! Pavarti moved her arm and knocked her goblet of milk over, spilling it across the tabletop. Hermione's eyes were drawn to the liquid as it spread across the surface, the way it moved brought the eerie sensation back. This was too weird, it was all exactly the same as her dream. But then that would mean…her eyes lifted toward the ceiling, she was scanning the rafters a second before the first wave of owls came into view. A lump formed in her throat as she saw what she was looking for, the single grey owl dropping below the others, loaded down with a large white box. Hermione felt her mouth drop open as she followed its flight toward the Slytherin table.

The owl delivered its load and landed. She saw the huge wings of Eteans golden eagle flap and wave in the air, an open gesture of hostility directed at the newcomer. Hermione saw the owl fly off but she didn't pay it any attention. She watched in agonising suspense as Malfoy straightened and opened the box. The lump in her throat sank and landed like a lead ball in her stomach as she saw him stand up and draw back. His arms flailed as he tripped over the bench and disappeared from view. A chorus of surprised gasps and giggles erupted across the room. Hermione's gaze moved to Pansy Parkinson as she stood and leaned forward. Her mouth opened, she was probably going to ask if Malfoy was alright but she never got the chance. Even from this distance Hermione could see her pale as she looked into the box, she lifted a hand to her mouth and screamed.

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Draco growled under his breath and kept his attention on his notes. He was getting nowhere. The more he read over his notes, the more complicated the presentation seemed to get. He shook his head, stuffed the cards into his robes and sighed, he was as ready as he was going to be. He looked up to see Regal staring at him, the look the bird was giving him made him uneasy. He was about to ask Etean to call it off when the bird looked away, turning to look upwards at the ceiling. The bird fluffed itself up and made a sound with its beak that seemed to Draco to be strangely like 'Harrumph.' He turned to see what the bird was staring at, the air above his head was filled with owls. One in particular, a large grey bird that Draco didn't recognise was headed along the Slytherin table carrying a large white box. The bird dropped the box in front of Draco. It hit the table with a thud as the bird landed beside Regal. Draco reached out to the box then drew back as Regal drew up and raised his wings in a show of aggression. The owl that had delivered the box was clearly afraid of him, it turned and flew off. Etean reached out and stroked Regal, the bird calmed instantly and went back to devouring the bacon on the table.

Draco returned his attention to the package, it was a gilt card box with a golden trim, tied with a heavy purple ribbon. There was a card attached to it. Draco pulled it free and opened it. A tight cramp of fear tightened in his gut as he read it,

'_To my son,_

_ Lucius,_'

"What is it?" Etean asked. Draco felt numb, his fingers trembled as he passed the card to Etean. He turned back to the package and undid the ribbon. Taking a deep breath he lifted the lid,

"No…" he stammered and stood up. His mind flashed, stuttered, spun, and then caved in on itself. All thoughts and conscious awareness disappeared, buried and crushed by the sudden terrible pain and fear that filled him. The back of his legs encountered the bench and he fell, watching the world spin around him for a second before he hit the ground. His head collided with the tile and stars exploded in front of his eyes. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion, he heard people laughing, the sound echoed in his mind. Then Pansy screamed.

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Etean took the card, he could tell Draco was worried by it. He frowned as he read it.

"Oh, Draco got more sweets!" Millicent cooed in his ear, "He always gets really nice sweets sent to him," her tone became sour, "he hardly ever shares them though," Etean turned to her, palming the card before she could read it, he fixed the mask on, keeping a firm mental eye on Draco as he spoke,

"Is that right?" she nodded,

"He keeps them all to himself, we hardly ever even see them,"

"Terrible, don't you get sweets sent to you?" she shook her head and tried to make herself look sad,

"Not as nice as the ones he gets. All Mother ever sends me is…" Etean tuned her out as he felt the panic explode out from Draco, he turned to look at him as he stood up. Etean reached out to read him but Draco's mind was frozen, he could determine no clear thought from him. Draco tripped and fell back, vanishing from sight. The table exploded with gasps of astonishment. Pansy bounced to her feet and shouted at Draco, getting halfway through asking him what had happened before she froze. Etean looked up at her, she was staring into the box on the table. She lifted her hand to her mouth and screamed.

Etean stood up and looked into the box,

"Merlin's ghost," he exclaimed. He looked down at Draco, he was lying on his back staring straight ahead. He turned to Pansy, she was still staring at the box. Millicent stood up to see what was going on, Etean grabbed the lid of the box and slammed it home before she or anyone else could see. He waved his hand and magically retied the ribbons as Draco got up and bolted for the door,

"Shit," he turned to follow him, Millicent stopped him,

"What is it?" he shook her off,

"Not now Millicent," she reached for the box, Etean stopped her, "No," he barked, "Just leave it. Regal," he pointed at the bird and snapped his fingers and pointed to the box, "Take it to Dumbledore," he heard flapping as Regal responded to his command. Trusting that none of the Slytherins would dare interfere with Regal as he took the package away, he jumped over the bench and took off after Draco. He charged out of the Great Hall. Draco had a good start on him, he was already clearing the doors before Etean even caught sight of him. Swallowing a curse, Etean stopped and pointed at Draco's legs,

"Bindus," he winced slightly in pain as the spell jumped from his fingertips and shot at Draco, it collided with his legs and locked them. Draco went tumbling over and landed in a heap by the door, he spun over and glared at Etean as he crossed over to him,

"What are you doing?" his voice was shaky,

"Keeping you from making a mistake," Etean hunkered down as Draco struggled to move his legs and stand up,

"Let me go," Etean looked at him, he could feel the anger and fear in him,

"No," he said quietly, anything else would have sounded hollow. Draco glared at him,

"Let me go now Etean," Etean knew full well where Draco wanted to go, Lucius plan was all too clear,

"I can't let you go Draco," he was aware that other students were beginning to flood into the hall, for now they were keeping their distance, Etean kept his voice low so they wouldn't hear, "That's what he wants," Draco sat up and lashed out, seizing Etean's neck. Etean felt his fingers close around his throat, cutting off his air supply,

"I'm going to kill him," Etean ignored every reflex he had to pull away and stared at Draco,

'No,' he couldn't speak so he sent the thought, 'You are going to get yourself killed, and you will accomplish nothing,' he put a lot of force in the last part, more than he really intended to. Draco reeled for a moment then tightened his grip on Etean's throat,

"Stay out of my head Etean," Etean didn't move, he just continued to stare into Draco's eyes, watching as the storm of emotion raged inside him. Fear fuelled anger, blind anger that, now that he couldn't go anywhere, had nowhere else to go but toward Etean. Draco's eyes filled with tears, his arm started to tremble but his grip remained constant. He gasped, the breath he had been holding shot out of him as the tears started to flow. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Etean watched as he tried and failed to keep the anger constant. Etean knew what he was feeling, he didn't need to read his mind, he could remember it all to well. The pain was too much, thinking hurt, living hurt. Anger was a shield, it was the only way to hide from the pain, but it didn't last long, it couldn't. Already he could see it fade away. Draco's eyes opened and he looked at him again, his arm trembled harder and harder, his breathing became ragged and shallow.

Draco released his grip, Etean rocked forward onto his knees as Draco lowered his head into his hands. Ignoring the pain in his throat, Etean reached out and laid his hand on Draco's shoulder. He looked up to see half the school standing about, staring at them. Then he heard Dumbledore's voice boom around the Entrance Hall, ordering everyone to leave. Reluctantly, they complied. Etean saw them start to break up before he was surrounded by teachers and bustled out of the room.

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Hermione ignored the pain in her gut as countless people collided with her in the rush to leave the Great Hall. Everybody wanted to know what was going on, why Malfoy had rushed out like that. Lavender and Pavarti were gasping and hopping on the tips of their toes, trying to see over the heads of the people in front of them. Hermione didn't share their obvious excitement, it was morbid dread that drove her on. In the crowd of curious students she felt alone, they were all seeking to find out what happened, hoping for it to be something good, a good bit of gossip to talk about. She was growing more and more certain that she knew what it was and was hoping, no, praying that she was wrong. She pushed and shoved her way forward to find her path blocked. Professor Dumbledore along with Professors Snape and McGonagall were charging through the crowd. Dumbledore's presence alone was enough to restore order.

When he reached the front of the crowd, the Headmaster turned and addressed them,

"I want this hall cleared immediately," his voice had a stronger edge to it than Hermione ever remembered hearing, "All students should report to their respective classrooms immediately and await their teachers. All those who do not have a class to attend should return to their common rooms and stay there." Nobody in Hogwarts would ever dare to argue with Dumbledore, with an almost tangible air of disappointment the students started to disperse, Hermione found herself carried along with them. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't pay any attention to where she was going and, by the time she realised, she was halfway to the Divination Room,

"Shit," she shouted, Lavender and Pavarti spun to look at her,

"Hermione!" they said in unison, apparently surprised at her language,

"What are you doing here?" Pavarti frowned at her, Hermione shook her head,

"I wasn't watching where I was going," she turned around and headed off, "I have to get to Arithmancy," Hermione dodged through the crowd that was moving against her as she ran as fast as she could through the corridors. She checked her watch as she turned the last corner, she was five minutes late for class,

"Damn it!" she exclaimed then stopped in her tracks. Professor Vector was pacing in circles outside the door. As she approached she saw that the usually stoic Professor was upset, really upset. Her face was pale and she was sweating, Hermione could hear her babbling to herself. The Professor didn't seem to notice her standing there, it wasn't until she reached out and actually touched her arm that Vector saw her. When she did, she jumped, making Hermione jump too,

"Sorry Professor, I didn't mean to scare you,"

"What?" she sounded confused, "Oh, Miss Granger what are you doing out here? You should be in class, shouldn't you?" Hermione nodded,

"I know, I'm late, sorry Professor," Vector nodded,

"Yes well," she waved her hand in a circular motion, "run along then, don't let me keep you," Hermione was confused,

"Em, Professor," she pointed to the door, "You're supposed to be teaching the class," Vector turned to look at the door. After a moment, she laughed and shook her head,

"Why yes, I am. I don't know how I forgot, where is my head this morning," she made to step forward and open the door. She paused and turned back to look at Hermione again, "Oh, I almost forgot," her tone changed as she changed the subject. She reached inside her robes and drew out a stack of cards which she handed to Hermione, "Here, Mr. Malfoy…" she paused, a visible shudder went through her, "He will not be attending class, you will have to give the presentation for your project alone I'm afraid," she made to open the door, Hermione reached out and stopped her,

"Professor, what's going on? What happened in the Great Hall earlier," the words came to her as if she was reading a script, everything was still playing out exactly as she remembered it. Vector turned to her, she had to struggle to keep herself from speaking Vector's response along with her,

"I'm…not sure I should discuss that with you Miss Granger, the Headmaster asked that we not discuss it with the students,"

"Please, I…I have to know Professor. Tell me," Vector considered it for a moment then sighed,

"It seems Mr. Malfoy received a package…from his father,"

"What was in the package?" Hermione felt herself start to shake, Vector stared at her, then paled even further, she opened her mouth to respond, then hesitated and closed it again. She shook her head, then whispered,

"It was his mother's head!"

_A/N: Ouch!!! Sorry for all of you that were feeling sorry for Draco before, I guess you really are now eh?_

_Trust me, it had to happen._


	32. Bad Memories

Etean allowed his eyes to flutter closed as the blast of wind washed over him. The world spun and shifted, he felt the sudden sensation of travelling at great speed. The world flashed by him, he could feel it as he apparated. Fighting down the nausea, he focussed his mind on his destination, pictured where he wanted to be and suddenly he was there. The wind died, he opened his eyes to see the corridor. The disorientation lasted less than a second. The corridor was dark, lined with heavy wood, perpetually cold despite the burning torches and heated floors, this was home. The tall windows that lined one of the walls were shuttered, as they should be. Sunlight should not shine in this house today, not today. In the light of the torches the corridor seemed empty, but it wasn't. Etean knew that he wasn't alone, he needed no enhanced senses to know where the guards would be, he could locate them blindfolded. He had located them blindfolded hundreds of times over the years. A game he had played time and again as a child. But today was different, today was no game. Gathering his will and his thoughts about him he stepped forward, listening to the click of his heels on the tiled floor.

The faces of Eteans long dead stared out at him from their portraits on the wall. They shifted about but remained silent, none of them spoke as they watched this, the last march of Master Robert Etean. He reached the archway of the entrance to the antechamber outside the master bedroom and stopped. Two guards, the only two that were visible flanked the bedroom door, they snapped even further to attention when they saw him. Their gaze beneath the visors of their helmets was fixed straight ahead but Etean could feel them watching him. He didn't recognise them, their armour managed to disguise any distinguishing features they may have had, leaving them as faceless guards. That was of course the point, they were Etyar. To be Etyar was to be seen but never identified, a symbol rather than a person, cold anonymity. It was how their armour had been designed, meant to intimidate and impress all who saw it. Looking at these two, it was clear that the goal had been achieved. They stood like statues, stoic and severe in their silver and blue…and black. Etean swallowed a curse when he saw the memorial ribbon tied across their chests, it was premature and he was sure that they both knew it. He was about to chastise them for it, tell them that their master was not dead yet but he stopped himself. What was the point? It would be true soon enough. Anger surged in him at the thought. He ground his teeth and retreated further behind his mask, this was no time to show emotion, emotion was weakness. Drawing himself to his full height he stepped forward and opened the door.

The air inside was colder than the corridor, it was heavy and smelled of decay. The widows were barred and shuttered like the corridor, the only illumination was from the dozen candles that burned in recesses set into the wall above the head of the bed. Etean surveyed the room, there were no guards in here, this place was out of bounds even to them. This was the private chamber of Lord Etean, a room he had stood in on countless occasions before today, but it had never felt like this. The room seemed different somehow, it seemed…emptier, he couldn't figure out why. His mind seemed to be running slow, thoughts wouldn't form. He turned and walked to the foot of the bed before he realised that he wasn't alone, a dark figure, silhouetted by the candle light was hunched over the bed. Noticing his approach, the doctor straightened and turned to face him. He was about to speak but Etean raised his hand and cut him off, the man merely bowed low and left without a sound. Etean looked down at the bed, bathed in shadow he could determine the shape of its occupant,

"Father," he spoke the word quietly, barely even able to force a sound from his throat. After a moment, he could sense his father become aware of him. He clenched his jaw and looked down, a scratching sound emanated from the bed, his father was trying to speak but was making no sense. There was movement, his father raised his arm. Etean moved round the corner of the bed to stand beside him, reaching out to take his hand. His flesh was cold, his skin was dry and cracked. Etean had to fight to keep from pulling free at his touch, it was like he was holding death, he could feel every feeble bone, every wasting sinew. The scratching sound returned as his father again fought to speak. Etean maintained his grip on his hand as he bent down, bringing his head closer to his father. Through the rattling, wheezing breaths he managed to say,

"I'm sorry," before he was silent. The breathing stopped. Etean froze, unable to move, he stared into the shadowy eyes of his father, watching as the life left him. His hand went limp and slid from Etean's grasp. The eternity of the moment shattered. He felt a cold, hard lump in his fist as it closed. The ring! He squeezed it hard and stood up. His fist tightened still further until he was sure that the ring had torn his skin but he didn't let go. The finality of the situation settled over him, he could see his life laid out before him with no turning, no freedom, only duty. A gentle hand grasped his shoulder, his head spun. Professor Snape was staring down at him,

"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you," he said quietly. Etean took a second to recover himself and remember where he was before he nodded. He shook his head and stood up. Snape turned round and headed for the door, Etean followed him. He paused to scan the room. Pansy was sitting with her head in her hands, sobbing hard. Professor McGonagall was sitting beside her with her arm round Pansy's shoulders trying to console her. McGonagall looked up at Etean, he could see the anxious worry on her face. She smiled at him in an attempt to reassure him. He couldn't help but feel grateful, despite how ridiculous the gesture was.

Etean followed Snape out of the staff room and down the deserted back passageway that led to the Headmasters office. They emerged into the corridor from behind a portrait. Snape spoke the password and stepped aside, gesturing for Etean to take the lead. Dumbledore was pacing back and forth in his office when Etean entered. He crossed to the centre of the floor and waited. Behind him, he heard Snape close the door with the barest click, leaving him alone with the Headmaster. Dumbledore looked down at Etean, for once his face lacked the seemingly perpetual smile he normally wore. He stared at Etean for a moment before he turned on his heel and marched smartly over to his desk, Regal stood perched on a stack of books. The Headmaster reached out and casually stroked his head before turning to look at Etean again,

"You have a beautiful bird Mr. Etean,"

"Thank you Professor," Etean was surprised at the rasp in his voice, he coughed slightly to clear his throat. Dumbledore moved over to sit on the edge of his desk, he steepled his fingers in front of his eyes for a moment before lowering them to his lap,

"How are you?" Etean was puzzled, what was supposed to be wrong with him?

"Sir?" Now Dumbledore smiled,

"Your neck, I believe Mr. Malfoy injured you," instinctively, Etean raised his hand to his throat, it was almost healed. He could only feel the slightest twinge when he swallowed now,

"No," rubbing the skin hurt, the bruising must have been worse than he thought it was, "Not really," he lowered his hand and smiled, "Besides, I don't think Draco meant to hurt me," he shut his eyes, "I don't think he knew what he was doing," Dumbledore continued to stare at him, then he shook his head,

"I don't believe he did, but I am glad that you realise it. This morning's events were…chaotic, it pleases me that you at least are able to view them with a degree of…detachment," Etean frowned, what was Dumbledore trying to say?

"Detachment Professor?" Dumbledore nodded,

"Yes, detachment. The ability to look beyond emotional obstructions to see the facts for what they are," he paused as his eyes slid closed, "A trait that it seems I lack," the sound of defeat in Dumbledore's voice worried Etean,

"Professor?" Dumbledore straightened and stepped forward, his tone changed,

"You were there when the…package arrived were you not?"

"Yes,"

"Yes, and according to Mr. Malfoy, there was a note attached to it when it arrived. A note that identified the sender,"

"His father," Dumbledore paused,

"Is that what the note said?"

"Didn't Draco tell you?"

"He did, but he was unable to produce the note. He said you had it," Etean patted his pockets and drew out the crumpled scrap of card. He handed it to Dumbledore. The Headmaster examined it for several seconds, then sighed. He returned to his seat on his desk before looking at Etean again,

"This appears to remove all doubts," he set the card down on the desk, "I have known Lucius Malfoy for a long time, a very long time. I even taught him when he attended this school," his voice faded away as he drifted in thought, "Until this morning I thought I had the measure of him and knew what he was capable of. But this…this act of barbaric cruelty I cannot fathom," Dumbledore's voice grew harsh as he spoke that last sentence, Etean felt the urge to take a step back from him. The Headmaster paused and seemed to get control of himself. He stood and paced again in front of the desk. After a moment, he took a deep breath and turned to look at Etean again, "You know what it is to lose a parent?" the question rocked Etean, it was delivered in a calm manner, with no trace of emotion. That fact alone kept Etean from charging Dumbledore down. After a moment to steady himself, he nodded. Dumbledore acknowledged his response with a nod of his own before he spoke again, "Mr. Malfoy will need a lot of time and help to recover from this…tragedy. He will need his friends, now more than ever he will need their…your support to get through this," Etean nodded,

"I understand Professor," Dumbledore looked at him, Etean could feel him reaching out with his Legitimence powers to read him. Automatically, Etean retreated behind his mask, letting Dumbledore read the false thoughts and emotions he was hiding behind. Dumbledore smiled, apparently satisfied,

"I know you do, Mr. Etean," he nodded, "That will be all. Off you go," Etean raised his arm and whistled, Regal took off from the desk and landed on his arm as he turned to leave. He descended the stairs and stood outside in the corridor as the gargoyle closed behind him, trying to decide what to do, where to go. He didn't have any classes to attend until after lunch and he didn't feel like facing the grilling that would await him in Slytherin. He pushed his mind out to sense Draco, after a moment sifting through the noise of the school he found him. He was unconscious, probably sedated. Based on the direction and distance, he presumed he was in the Hospital Wing, probably in a private room, out of the way. Etean decided to leave him be, for now it was better that Draco sleep. All that consciousness would bring him would be pain, and that, he decided, could wait. Etean turned and walked down the corridor, headed nowhere specific. As he wandered, he noticed people staring at him. He heard them whisper, the rumours were already in full flow. They huddled and whispered but nobody bothered him, Regal sitting on his arm was enough of a deterrent for that.

He reached a corner and turned, stepping through an open door onto an open bridge connecting two of the castle's towers. He paused and sat on the rail, perching Regal on his knee. He took long slow breaths and looked off into the distance, letting his mind flow. His thoughts never strayed far from Draco,

"I'm sorry I got you into this Draco," he whispered into the wind. Nobody could hear him but saying it helped, a little. This whole mess was his fault. This was his plan after all. 'No,' he shut his eyes and scolded himself, 'You didn't kill her, Lucius killed her. This is _his_ fault, not yours.' The thought gave him little comfort. He had made a mistake, he should have seen this coming. But how could he have? How could he have predicted that Lucius would be so cruel? How could any father do that to their own child?

Lost in thought, his thumb stroked his ring and he felt his eyes drawn to it. Watching the pale sunlight glint off the silver band, he couldn't help but think about his own father again. Bad idea! He shut his eyes but couldn't block the memory from playing again, the image of his father lying in that bed seven months ago flooded into his brain. He had looked so…weak. That was the thing that Etean remembered most, the way that the poison had sapped his strength. He felt a lump form in his throat as he remembered hearing the croaking broken sound of his fathers last words,

'I'm sorry.' That was all he had said, and then he was gone. In that one second, Etean had stopped being a boy and had become a man. No longer Master Robert, he had become Lord Etean. Moments after his father had died he had put the ring on, knowing that he could never take it off for the rest of his life, but not knowing what being Lord Etean really meant. He lifted his hand and wiped away the single tear that was rolling down his cheek. Now he knew what it meant, it meant a life of lies, secrets and deceptions layered so thickly onto each other that the truth was all but irrelevant. It meant that he had to make decisions that affected peoples' lives, decisions which cost people their lives,

"What are you thinking about?" Ginny's voice made him jump, he hadn't felt her approach. As he moved, Regal shifted on his leg and dug his claws in to prevent himself from falling off,

"What?" he turned to look at her,

"You looked like you were a million miles away," Etean took a deep breath,

"No, only a about a thousand," she frowned in confusion, he reached out and took her hand in his, shaking his head, "Never mind. Don't you have a class or something now?" she stepped closer to him, reaching out to stroke Regal as she shook her head,

"No, I'm done until after lunch, not that there was much point in classes today,"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well," she shrugged, "all the teachers seem to be on a different planet or something," she paused, "Em, Etean…what really happened this morning, with Malfoy?" Etean turned to look at the horizon again,

"How about we talk about something else yeah?" Ginny sighed, she seemed disappointed,

"Ok, it's just…" she paused, he looked back at her,

"Just what?"

"Well, there are all kinds of rumours flying around. People are talking," 'I know they are, so much for changing the subject,' he sighed,

"And what are they saying?"

"They say that Malfoy's mother has been killed…that his father killed her and…," Etean closed his eyes, the rumour mongers in this school were pretty good. Ginny trailed off for a moment, he could feel her hand start to shake. "Its true isn't it?" he looked at her and nodded. She gasped and lifted her free hand to cover her mouth, "I don't believe it," he shook his head,

"It's true. Lucius murdered her, and apparently he felt the need to rip his son's heart to shreds too," he turned away from her and reached out to stroke Regal. The bird looked at him for a moment before turning his head to stare out at the grounds. Neither Ginny nor Etean spoke for a while. Etean watched Regal, the bird tensed, he had spotted something. "You see something boy?" he asked, again trying to change the subject. He turned to scan the grounds, it didn't take him long to find what Regal was looking at, he smiled,

"What is it?" Ginny leaned down, her head drew level with Etean's, "What's he looking at?"

"A rabbit, it appears that Regal wasn't satisfied by his breakfast, he's still hungry," he looked at her, she was frowning in concentration, her eyes were darting about as she tried to find the rabbit,

"I can't see it," Etean laughed,

"How did you ever play seeker Ginny?" he stroked Regal again, "Watch," he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. Regal took off and flew into the air. They watched as he cleared the castle and swooped low over the grounds. The rabbit never even saw him coming, Regal was the merest dot when he made contact and lifted the his prey into the air,

"He got him," Ginny smiled,

"Yes he did, he never misses," Etean sat back and folded his arms across his chest, Ginny turned round and leaned against the railing, resting on his knee. The smile faded from her face, she turned to look at him,

"You saw what was in the box, the one Lucius sent to Draco, didn't you?" Etean nodded, "What was it?" He rocked his head back and swallowed. His throat still hurt, the pain made him wince. He shook his head,

"Believe me Gin, you don't want to know."

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Hermione dumped her bag onto her bed and yawned. She was stiff, it seemed as if her arms and legs were made of lead. She stretched to try and loosen them. This had been one long day. A day that she was certain she would never forget. She frowned and rubbed her eyes, one thing this school was not short of was gossip. She had lost count of the dozens of different rumours and suspicions that had bounced round the castle all day. Most of them had been wrong, some had bordered on the ridiculous but a couple had gotten it right, or close to it at least. Despite her admitted know-it-all nature, Hermione hadn't told anyone the truth, she hadn't even agreed with those that had guessed correctly, somehow it felt…wrong for her to do so. Ever since Professor Vector had told her, she had felt alone, cut off from everyone else. They didn't know the truth but she did, she had known before anyone else. It was no use denying it anymore, she knew what Professor Vector was going to tell her before she had said it, she had known it from the second she woke up this morning. She didn't want to believe it, she had spent the whole day twisting it around, cutting it up and dissecting it but in the end there was the only answer. The dream had been real, there was no escaping it now.

'But how could it have been real? It was just a dream,' she nodded at the thought. Dreams were just fantasy, a way for the mind to pass the time while you were asleep. Weren't they? That's what she had always believed. That's what they had to be, all that Divination nonsense was just that, nonsense. Still?

The door opened and Lavender came in, giggling under her breath. Hermione frowned,

"What are you so happy about?" Lavender stopped short when she saw Hermione, she shook her head,

"Oh nothing. Just Seamus messing about," she blushed as she crossed to her bed and dumped her bag. Hermione turned back to her own bed and stretched, grimacing as the muscles of her stomach and chest complained. She lowered her hand and rubbed her gut, the pain was less severe, the mark was fading but it still hurt. "Are you coming?" Lavender asked, Hermione turned to see her standing by the door,

"What?" Lavender rolled her eyes,

"Duelling Club tonight…ring a bell?" Hermione blushed when she remembered the Club meeting. She had completely forgotten about it,

"Oh," she checked to make sure she had her wand, "Yeah, I'm coming," she ran out of the room, catching up with Lavender on the stairs down to the Common Room. It was packed. In addition to the rest of the Gryffindor House, most of the sixth years were still there. It was apparently the plan for them to head down to the Great Hall as a group. Seamus stood up when he saw Lavender,

"There you are, how long does it take you to dump a bag?" Lavender blushed and pointed at Hermione,

"I was waiting for her," Seamus turned to Hermione and was about to say something but Harry cut him off,

"If we are all here," he shouted over the din in the room, gaining instant silence, "then maybe we should get going," Hermione was aware of him turning to leave the room and she was fairly sure Ron was staring in her direction, but she deliberately avoided looking at either of them directly. She fell into step behind Lavender and Seamus as they left the Common Room and headed down the stairs. Lavender looked ahead, Harry was already clearing the fifth floor landing,

"What's his hurry?" she turned to Hermione as she asked the question, Hermione shrugged,

"Etean," Seamus answered,

"Etean?" Hermione and Lavender asked in one voice, Seamus looked at both of them for a moment before he laughed,

"Yes, Etean. Harry wants a crack at him. He hasn't shut up about it all day, I think he really wants to be champion of our year,"

"That and Etean's an arrogant Slytherin git," Hermione looked up as Ron drew level with them, she had thought he was ahead of them on the stairs. He looked at her, one second of eye contact was enough to re-ignite the anger in her. Her cheeks flushed red and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself yelling at him. He opened his mouth as if to speak to her, but she just glared and turned away. Ron clicked his tongue and pushed forward around Seamus and galloped down the stairs. Lavender stopped, blocking Hermione's path,

"What was that about?" she asked, Hermione looked at her and shook her head,

"Nothing," Lavender didn't move,

"It didn't look like nothing, did you two have a fight or something?" Hermione shook head again,

"No. It's nothing, really!" she put as much emphasis on it as she could. Lavender wasn't convinced, she stared at Hermione for a second before turning to look at Seamus. She flicked her head, signalling him to move on. He hesitated then continued down the stairs. Lavender turned back and whispered,

"No, something is definitely going on. You two have been acting weird all week, Harry too, what happened?"

"I…I don't know what you mean," Hermione made to push past and continue down the stairs. Lavender blocked her again, she smiled,

"You're a bad liar Hermione, did I ever tell you that?" Hermione growled in frustration,

"Look, there's nothing going on Lavender alright?" she sounded harsher than she intended to. Lavender drew back from her,

"Fine," she sounded hurt, "Don't tell me then," she spun on her heel and headed down the stairs. Hermione swore under her breath, 'Great, now she hates me too,' she bit her lip and chased after her, catching her on the next landing,

"Lavender," she reached out and caught her arm to stop her, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you,"

"Whatever," Lavender shook her off and turned away, Hermione moved fast to get around in front of her,

"No honest, I'm just tired that's all. I…I haven't been sleeping well," Lavender looked at her,

"I was just trying to be a friend Hermione," Hermione nodded,

"I know you were and believe me I appreciate it," she shut her eyes and took a deep breath, "The truth is, I'm not talking to Ron or Harry. We…had a fight," she raised a hand to cut off Lavender's question, "Please, don't ask what about, it doesn't matter. Let's just say that they showed me a side of themselves that I don't like. Can we leave it at that?" Lavender frowned, and then nodded,

"I suppose we can," Hermione smiled,

"So, we're still friends then yeah?" Lavender still seemed confused, clearly she wanted to know the whole story but Hermione was just not ready to tell her. In the end she nodded and smiled,

"Yes, friends. Now come on or we'll be late," she turned and tugged Hermione on down to the Great Hall.

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Etean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in vexation,

"For the hundredth time Millicent, I'm fine," Millicent reached out and took hold of his hand,

"You don't look fine Etean," she moaned, "you look tired," Etean growled under his breath, trying to make this girl listen was an exercise in futility,

"Look," he barked and bounced to his feet, bringing his face to within an inch of hers, "I am tired OK? And do you know why?" he paused long enough for her to open her mouth before he cut her off, "I'm tired because I have spent the last hour listening to you whining at me," her mouth dropped open, Etean made no attempt to level the tone in his voice, "Now, I am going to say this one more time Millicent, and I want you to listen very carefully. I…am…fine! Got it?" she stared at him for a moment, open mouthed. Then she nodded, "Good," he stepped back, "Then leave me alone," he turned and marched out of the Common Room, dimly aware of the other sixth years falling into step with him as he went. Theo Nott drew level with him as they turned to climb the stairs,

"Now, don't bite my head off or anything Etean," he said, reaching out to stop Etean, "But we need to have a little chat don't you think," Etean raised an eyebrow, this seemed interesting,

"Do we?" Nott looked around, the other sixth years had conveniently given them some breathing space, Nott stepped forward so Etean could hear him whisper,

"Yes, because what happened this morning was big," he leaned down to stare right into Etean's eyes, "very big," Etean nodded,

"No argument here. But my question was why do _we_ need to talk?" Based on what Etean could see in Nott's mind, there was a lot more to that _we_ than the two of them. Nott looked around again then whispered,

"Not here, not now. We'll talk later. Just do me a favour, don't talk about what happened this morning to anyone," now Etean's curiosity was really spiking, he pushed himself further into Nott's mind, surprised to find that his thoughts were a lot harder to track down than they should have been. He nodded,

"Sure," Nott looked around again, Millicent was turning the bottom step, Nott turned to leave, pausing to whisper,

"Not anyone," in Etean's ear. Etean let him get two steps up the stairs before he followed him. Once inside the Great Hall, Etean kept to himself. Nott was standing with the rest of the Slytherins, Crabbe and Goyle were guffawing and laughing at some infantile joke. Etean ignore everyone else, whilst he openly appeared to be staring at the floor, lost in thought, mentally he was intently focussed on Nott. After a few seconds he gave up, Nott was hiding behind a mask, a shield of false thoughts and lies. Etean was impressed at how well he was maintaining it, that level of control was rare. He could see Nott's true thoughts, but to read them would require a lot more effort, he would have to push, and he was sure that Nott would realise it if he did. He turned around as he heard Snape calling him.

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Hermione stood by the side of the duelling platform, deliberately keeping Lavender and Seamus between herself and Harry. She scanned the room, no sign of Malfoy, no surprise there, there had been no sign of him all day. Pansy Parkinson was also absent, again no surprise. She spotted Etean, he was standing in the corner talking to Professor Snape. After a moment the Professor turned and marched to the head of the room, his presence suddenly assuring order,

"If I may have your attention please," a moment's pause, "Welcome to the second meeting of the Sixth Year Duelling Club," he started to turn slowly as he spoke, "Now, this meeting shall take a slightly different format than the last one. For this evening, you will devote your time to practicing the skills you possess and hopefully, learn some new ones. To begin we shall divide in half," he stopped, facing lengthways along the table, "those on my left will be one group, and those on my right will be the other. Within these groups you will participate in a series of exercises and supervised duels. I shall supervise one group, giving instruction where necessary, Mr. Etean shall supervise the other," Hermione's eyes moved to Etean, he was looking at the Professor, he nodded as the Professor pointed to him and stepped back, calling the Slytherins and Ravenclaws with him. Snape turned toward the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, waving them into a group. "Now then, form a circle all of you, the first exercise we are going to try is…"

"Aren't we going to duel Professor?" Harry spoke up, Snape glared at him,

"I have just told you Mr. Potter, that we are not,"

"I thought that was the point of this,"

"Well, maybe in future you should listen," Snape growled. He looked up at the remainder of the group and barked at a couple of them to reform the circle, "Right, as I was saying, the first exercise we are going to perform is one that will enhance your reflexes…to begin, I will require a volunteer," he looked around at the students. For once, Hermione didn't want to volunteer, looking around she saw that nobody else did either. Eventually Harry stepped forward, Snape stared at him for a moment, "Stand ready," The students behind Harry parted as Snape took out his wand and aimed, Harry raised his wand, "Lower it," Snape ordered. Reluctantly Harry lowered his wand, a barely visible grin tugged at the corner of Snape's mouth as he took a breath, "Pigmenus!"

A tiny spell shot out and hit Harry on the shoulder, he barked in pain and stepped back, reaching up to rub the spot where it had hit,

"Relax Mr. Potter, the spell was harmless,"

"Harmless? It stung,"

"Yes, a deterrent, nothing more. Lower your hand," Harry took his hand away to reveal a glaring red blotch on his robes, "The charm, Pigmenus," Snape continued, "will leave a temporary mark on you whenever it hits, but will do no lasting damage whatsoever. It also has a limited range, so crossfire shouldn't be a problem. You will now divide into pairs, each pair will then attempt to hit each other with that charm…that charm only!" he stressed the last part, "The goal is to hit your opponent while avoiding being hit yourself. I will move amongst you and monitor your progress," he paused, nobody moved. Snape clapped his hands, waking them from their reverie, "Pair up, fan out, move," he barked. The class divided, Hermione was about to turn to ask Lavender to partner with her but she wasn't fast enough, Lavender was already headed away with Seamus. She looked around for another partner, Pavarti…no she was with Dean, Neville…with Harry.

She froze as she saw Ron headed toward her. She turned, trying to find someone else, anyone else, but there was nobody. She looked back to see him staring at her, they were in a fairly open space, enough room to duel. She shook her head and drew her wand,

"Ready?" she asked,

"Hermione…" he started but she didn't want to listen,

"Pigmenus!" she shouted, the spell shot out and hit him dead over his heart. He staggered back, wincing in pain,

"Hey," she stood ready again,

"Ready?"

"Hermione…"

"Pigmenus!" this time he caught it in the shoulder, she stood ready again,

"Ready?"

"Hermione…" she was about to fire again when Snape stepped into her line of sight and she hesitated. Snape ignored her and focussed his attention on Ron,

"Now, I thought that I had made the point of this exercise clear enough that even you, Mr. Weasley, should have been able to understand it. But, since you seem to have missed it, I will re-iterate. You are supposed to be _dodging_ her attacks," Ron drew himself up and looked at Snape,

"I know that Professor,"

"In that case why aren't you?"

"Well I was…"

"You were standing there, making a decent impression of a target," Snape looked at Hermione, then at Ron again, "Now stand ready, both of you," they complied, another look at them both and Snape stepped out of the way, "You may fire when ready," Hermione looked into Ron's eyes, he stared back at her, she saw him prepare to fire, but beat him to it,

"Pigmenus!" Hermione's spell was already flying at him before he fired,

"Pigmenus!" She saw her spell hit his chest before his connected. She felt it hit in exactly the same spot the Harry's stunner had hit her. She had prepared herself for it to hurt, she had seen Harry's reaction, but the pain that she felt was a hell of a lot worse than she had expected. She felt the detonation ripple across her stomach as the wave of pain rocketed up her spine.

Based on the way she was suddenly surrounded by people, she assumed she must have screamed. Arms caught her beneath her armpits and lifted her up, she didn't remember falling down. She heard voices, people asking her if she was alright but she didn't answer, the truth was she didn't know the answer. The fiery pain in her stomach remained as she was led away out of the Great Hall to the Hospital.

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Madame Pomfrey bustled and fussed over Hermione, mumbling and grumbling under her breath,

"What did you say he hit you with dear?" she asked for the fifth time,

"A Pigmenus charm Madame Pomfrey, that's all," Madame Pomfrey shook her head,

"Well, in all my years, I have never seen that charm cause bruising like this," her frown deepened, "Some of this appears to be from…an older injury. Did something else happen to you lately?" Hermione thought fast, it was clear to her Madam Pomfrey wasn't going to let up until she could explain the injury, she had to think of something. But she couldn't tell her the truth, that would get Harry and Ron in trouble and, mad as she was at them, she didn't want to see them in _that_ kind of trouble,

"Well…I…I fell getting out of the shower the other day,"

"You fell? Why didn't you come to me for treatment?"

"Well, it was only a bruise, I didn't think it was that serious," Madame Pomfrey looked dubious, "Honestly," Hermione struggled to sound unconcerned, "It was nothing, and it had almost healed, I guess Ron just hit the wrong spot," she laughed, Madam Pomfrey stared at her for a moment, then turned to the treatment tray, she turned back and handed Hermione a lump of bloodroot,

"Here, you'd better take this with you," she didn't sound happy, but then she never did, "Rub it well into the wound before you go to bed and again in the morning. If the bruise hasn't faded by then come back and see me," she turned and left. Hermione sat up, wincing in pain as she straightened her shirt and pulled on her robes. She tried to keep the pain from her voice as she thanked Madam Pomfrey and left.

She turned the corner and stopped, Ron was waiting for her. She put her head down and made to storm past him but he moved into her path to block her,

"Please stop Hermione," he pleaded, she sighed,

"Ron, just leave me alone will you," he reached out and took hold of her shoulders,

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright," she held her arms out and shrugged, ignoring the pain in her stomach,

"Yeah? Well now you've seen that I am. So you can let me go," she pushed his arms down and tried to step around him, but he moved again to block her,

"Hermione please, just talk to me will you?" she rolled her eyes,

"Talk? About what?"

"I…I want to make things right between us again,"

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"By saying I'm sorry and…"

"Sorry? Is that it? You're sorry?"

"Well I am,"

"You don't get it, do you Ron?" she shook her head and ducked round him, ignoring his calls as she marched down the corridor. She reached the lowest landing before he caught her and turned her round. Out of reflex, she slapped him. She was surprised to realise that she wasn't the least bit sorry about it either. He reeled for a moment, then looked back at her,

"It's OK Hermione, I know you didn't mean that," there was a waver in his voice, she felt anger rush up inside her again,

"Oh I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you," she made to storm off again but he caught her elbow and held her back, she glared at him, "Unless you want another one Ron, you had better let me go," he stared at her,

"I don't want to lose you Hermione. I know I was wrong to hex you the other night. Please, just tell me what I have to do to make this better,"

"You think I'm mad at you for hexing me? Is that it?" he seemed puzzled,

"Aren't you?"

"Of course," she stopped when she realised she was shouting, she glanced about to make sure no one was listening before she continued, "Of course I am," she said, fighting to keep her voice down, "But that isn't the only reason," his frown deepened,

"What else did I do?"

"You scared me Ron," he was taken aback when she said it, "Do you get it now? You scared me, Harry did too," she paused, feeling the tremble start inside her. Realising that tears weren't far away, she felt the urge to be alone but he was still holding onto her. She took a breath, determined to make him understand, she stared him straight in the eye, "You were supposed to be my best friend, I trusted you. I thought I knew you but what you did the other night proved me wrong, it made me realise that I didn't know you at all," she felt the tremble grow stronger as his face paled, it was taking all her will to keep her face stern, 'Say it Granger, get it done,' "You showed me a whole new side of you, a completely different Ron Weasley, and I don't like him. In fact I don't want anything to do with him!" she stressed the last part, and got the reaction she wanted, his grip on her slackened. She shook her arm free and headed up the stairs, grateful that he didn't seem to be following her.


	33. Sheep and Wolves

The Duelling Club meeting ended, the students were ordered back to their respective houses. Etean watched them start to break up and clump together, friends comparing notes. Some of them were a little worse for wear, his eyes followed as Padma Patil limped over to join her friends and headed out of the hall. She had twisted her ankle while dodging a barrage of spells from Blaise. Most of the Slytherins were already gone but he was not really in a hurry to leave. The little hairs on the back of his neck tingled, his senses telling him that he was being watched. He turned to see Theo Nott disappear out the door. A tiny frown tugged at his brow, Nott was a mystery. Etean hadn't really paid him much attention when he had first arrived, he hadn't noticed anything odd about him, but there was something. For the entire duration of the meeting, Etean had focussed as much of his attention as he could spare on him and was certain of one thing, there was more to Theodore Nott than met the eye. He was an Occlumence, and a damned good one at that. Somebody had trained him to shield his thoughts from magical attacks, and they had trained him well. The question was not who, that one was easy. Nott's father, Theodore Senior was considered to be one of the deadlier Death Eaters, a highly skilled killer, currently wanted in connection with at least four murders in the past few months alone. The question wasn't why either, there could be only one reason. Nott Senior had trained his son so he could keep secrets from his fellow students and more importantly, from Dumbledore. It was those secrets that had attracted Etean's attention. His instincts were telling him that Nott was up to something, at the very least he was involved in something larger than schoolwork. The level of skill and training he seemed to possess meant that whatever that was, it was not something he could afford to ignore.

Still lost in thought, he turned for the door, strolling out behind Hannah Abbot. His neck tingled again, he turned to see Potter staring daggers at him. Etean snapped out of his reverie long enough to throw him a cocky grin, something he knew would annoy Potter. It did, he saw him flush red with anger. Etean laughed to himself and turned to leave. Annoying Potter was an enjoyable pastime, shame it was so damned easy. Still he could easily see how Draco had had so much fun over the years.

Draco!

Etean spared a moment to locate him. He was still in the same place he had been all day, but now he was awake. Etean sensed his thoughts spin and churn in a torturous waking nightmare. His attention was pulled back to nearer concerns. Nott was standing in the Entrance Hall. Alone and silent he stood there, his hands joined behind his back, waiting for Etean,

"About time, I was beginning to think I'd missed you," his tone was light but there was a look in his eyes that gave Etean pause. He looked at Nott and allowed some of his confusion to show,

"You were waiting for me?" Nott nodded,

"We were supposed to have a little chat remember?"

"I remember," he nodded, then frowned again and looked around him, "you want to talk here?" Nott smiled, exactly the reaction Etean had expected, 'Go on, take the upper hand, show me how smart you are,'

"No," Nott's voice had picked up an arrogant superior tone, "not here, follow me," he turned without a moments pause and headed for the dungeon steps. Etean paused and allowed his mind to focus and settle into the role he had chosen to play. He waited for Nott to look back and beckon him before he followed him. Nott headed down and turned into the Potions Corridor. This part of the castle was almost deserted at this hour, the number of students they passed dwindled until they were alone.

Nott stopped and looked up and down the corridor, checking to ensure that it was deserted before he beckoned to Etean and turned round, disappearing into the Potions classroom,

"We shouldn't be disturbed here," he said with confidence as he shut the door behind Etean. Etean turned to watch him as he strolled with a casual air across the room to sit on a preparation table, Etean raised an eyebrow,

"Is that right?" Nott nodded,

"It is, Snape won't bother us, not for a while anyway, I have taken care of it," the confident arrogance in his voice was beginning to grate on Etean's nerves, 'Calm, play this out,' he settled his mind and calmed himself,

"Right, so we won't be disturbed, maybe now you'll tell me what the hell this is all about," Nott shrugged,

"Well I guess, when it comes down to it, I want to chat about you. More specifically, about why you're here," Etean put on a confused expression,

"You know why I'm here, I told you and everyone else that asked me that the day I came here,"

"Yes, I remember – Academic Qualifications," Nott sighed and set his hands on his hips, "Did you really expect that to fool us for long?" Nott shrugged, "Oh it seemed to be a plausible enough story at first, odd, but plausible. Certainly in keeping with your character – the character you were playing anyway,"

"Playing a character was I?" he laughed, "Why the hell would I do that Theo?"

"You can drop the act Etean, you're not going to fool me twice with that bullshit," he started to finger the Slytherin crest on his robes, Etean growled under his breath,

"No act Nott," he spread his arms wide, "Just me," Nott shook his head,

"Ok then, play dumb for a little longer if you must," he paused and straightened his robes, brushing his fingers across the House Patch again before looking up at Etean, "How about I take a wild stab at explaining just why you did come here? You can be the judge of how accurate I am," Etean shook his head, putting on the air of frustration and annoyance. 'You want to try and figure me out Theo? Ok, let's see you try,' he sat on a table and gestured for Nott to continue,

"I get the impression that you're going to do just that anyway Theo, so you may as well go ahead,"

"Ok then, you came here because you are in trouble and you were searching for a way out," Etean slowly nodded his head,

"Yes…that's about as wild a stab as you could have made Theo," he laughed and forced the scorn in his voice, "I'm in trouble am I? And what trouble would that be?" Nott sighed,

"Now, you can't seriously expect me to even pretend that I believe that you don't know the answer to that Etean,"

"Ok, I'll concede that one," Nott smiled,

"Good, that will make this easier to say, because in fact you're quite a bit worse off than most of us," Etean frowned, 'Draw him out,'

"That one you will have to explain,"

"Fine, you are worse off because you are Lord Etean, you have the wealth, the title and the influence over a lot of people to make you a target for the Dark Lord, and a high priority one at that. And that's why you're here," Nott paused and started to examine his fingernails, a superior smug grin on his face. 'Huh! So that's his angle is it? Let's see where he's going with it,'

"Say, just for a moment, that I agree with your assessment, that you're right about my…situation," he raised his arm and waved around him, "Why would I come here of all places?" Nott shrugged and lowered his hand,

"Oh this place has its advantages, it is…unique in several ways I feel you will agree," he stood up and started to stroll around, weaving between the desks as he spoke, "You were raised in a world of politics, you have dealt with schemers and plots since you were born. Thus you know that regardless of the situation, what matters isn't _what_ you know but _who_ you know. To come out on top, you need to make alliances and friendships with the right people,"

"And that's what I'm doing here is it? Looking for alliances?"

"Indeed you are, or are you trying to tell me that I'm wrong?" 'Of course you're wrong you moron!' Etean allowed himself to vent his annoyance internally, he needed to figure Nott out, playing along seemed as good a way as any for the moment,

"As I said, for the minute let us assume that you're not. But you still haven't answered my question. What makes you think that I would look for allies _here_?" Nott shook his head and sighed,

"The stupid act is getting boring Etean, can we let this be the end of it? You came to this school because you needed something other than sycophantic acolytes and false promises, which you couldn't find elsewhere. All your life, people have hovered round you, offering advice and friendship. As such, you have lots of '_friends_', but I am fairly certain that you realise just how real those friends are," Etean shrugged, 'Keep him talking, he'll say more than he wants to,'

"They're real enough, once you accept just how shallow they are,"

"True, so you tell me, how useful are friends like that?"

"That depends on what you need them for doesn't it?" Nott smiled,

"Now you're starting to sound as smart as you really are Etean," he chose another desk and sat down again, "We all need friends, people to do favours for us, to watch our backs, to be there when we need them," he folded his arms, "_I_ have friends Etean, most of them are right here in this school. I can ask them for help and they can ask me. But when it comes to it, I know there is a limit to which I can depend on each of them,"

"I thought we were talking about me," Nott's eyebrows raised,

"My apologies My Lord, but we are talking about you. As I said, you came here looking to make friends and you have chosen to make friends in Slytherin, which means your would-be friends are my friends. They're strangers to you, but I know them and I know how far they can be trusted," Etean smiled despite himself,

"You trust them?" Nott turned round, returning Eteans smile,

"I didn't say that Etean, and you know it. The truth is you can't trust a single one of them. The Slytherins are all the same, they are a pack of wild dogs. You can't turn your back on them, not even for a second,"

"You have a high opinion of the Slytherins don't you?" Nott nodded,

"Shouldn't I? They may be vicious and cruel, and you can't call them trustworthy, but they at least are reliable. They can be relied on to do whatever is in their best interests,"

"Is that right?"

"It is. I know them because I am one of them, and so are you," he leaned back and spread his arms. "Compared to the rest of the idiots in this school, the Slytherins are a class apart. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws…they are sheep, we are wolves," 'Shit, this guy really loves the sound of his own voice, this is going nowhere. I'll have to push him a bit harder,'

"Sheep and wolves? For Merlin's sake spare me," Etean stood and turned to leave, "I am not in the mood for this tonight Theo," he headed for the door, "How about you play your little games with someone else," Nott waited until Etean had his hand on the door before he spoke up,

"If you leave now, you'll miss a valuable opportunity and you know it," Etean turned to look at him, he smiled, "Don't you?" Nott stood up and joined his hands behind his back as he strolled over to the ingredients cabinet,

"What opportunity?"

"Please, quit playing the idiot and let us be honest with one another for a moment,"

"You want to be honest? Ok, how about you start by getting to the real point of this little '_chat_'?" Nott sighed,

"The point, as I said earlier, is you, and how I have had to re-evaluate you after this morning,"

"This morning?"

"Yes. This morning you witnessed something horrible, something truly dreadful. You were one of three people that I saw who did, Pansy, Draco and you,"

"You have a gift for evasion Theo, but I still don't see your point?" Nott paused, then continued as if he hadn't heard him,

"I saw Pansy a while ago, in our Common Room, she's a babbling wreck. Draco…I haven't seen him since this morning but the word floating around is that Dumbledore has him locked up, keeping an eye on him to ensure he doesn't commit suicide," 'What is it with this school and gossip mongers?' Nott paused and watched Etean again for a moment, "And then there is Robert Etean," Etean closed the distance between them, not enough to threaten Nott, just enough to show him that he was getting annoyed,

"What about me?"

"You saw what they saw, she screamed, he panicked, but you…you didn't even miss a beat. And here you stand, as if it had never happened," Etean shrugged,

"So I didn't react like the others, so what?"

"You didn't react to the situation at all Etean, you _acted_. Covering the box before any more people could see its contents, knowing that if they did, it would lead to chaos. Getting your bird to take it to Dumbledore, knowing he would be the only person that could restore order. Chasing after Draco and stopping him before he could leave on some hare-brained mission of revenge, knowing that he would succeed only in running off to his own death. Three decisions, three actions, conceived, considered and enacted in a heartbeat," Etean rubbed his eyes and sighed again,

"This is a fascinating lecture Theo, but you are really starting to bore me," he emphasised the statement, Nott's smile remained fixed and false,

"My _point_ Etean, is that you're a lot stronger and a hell of a lot smarter than I originally took you to be,"

"Is that so?"

"It is. You are smart, smart enough I hope, to recognise an opportunity when one comes along,"

"An…opportunity?"

"Yes, what do you think happened this morning?" Etean drew back and rolled his eyes,

"I assume you mean apart from Draco's mother getting murdered?" Nott's face became a cold mask,

"Draco's mother…murdered…yes," he took a breath. "Tragic wasn't it?"

"It was," Etean frowned, "But something tells me that you don't think so," Nott shook his head,

"Don't get me wrong, I do feel…sorry for Draco," he didn't sound the least bit sorry, "But, I can see the bigger picture here, and you should look at it too,"

"And what bigger picture is that Theo?" Nott's face twisted into a wicked grin,

"Fine, let me spell it out for you. The real conclusion to be drawn from this morning's little sideshow was that, for whatever reason, Draco is out of favour with his father and…"

"Whoa, hold on for a minute. Lucius kills his wife sends her HEAD to Draco and you read that as meaning that Draco is '_out of favour_' with him? Somehow, I doubt that the word 'understatement' quite covers that do you?" Nott smiled,

"Maybe, but the meaning is still clear. Lucius and Draco are not on the same side anymore, in fact I doubt they are even playing the same game right now. Which means that Draco isn't going to be as reliable, as useful a friend to you as he might have been previously,"

"Is that so?" Etean injected a hint of sarcasm that Nott ignored,

"Draco is the only son of the Dark Lord's first lieutenant, a boy with a direct line of succession to one day be the right hand of the Dark Lord himself. Naturally, when you arrived here, you gravitated to him over everyone else. How better to insulate yourself from the coming trouble? Friendship with him offered you a passport into the ranks of the Death Eaters," 'Finally, he tips his hand, he thinks I'm using Draco to get in good with Voldemort…interesting!' Etean paused briefly as his mind turned the page, 'Right, I know what he thinks, but what does he want? He isn't telling me all this for the good of his health,' Etean frowned slightly and spoke quietly,

"Why would I want that?" Nott smiled,

"Of course you do, whether you truly want to follow the Dark Lord or not is irrelevant and you are smart enough to know that. Smart enough to realise that to serve in the shadow of the Devil is better than to stand against him," Etean leaned his head to the side, feigning genuine contemplation as he watched Nott continue to balance his mask in front of his emotions. He wasn't quite good enough on close inspection to hide everything. A trace of an emotion was showing – anxiety, no fear! He was afraid, 'Why?' Etean took a deep breath,

"Serve the Devil? A colourful metaphor," he laughed, "But it seems to fit," he took another step forward, "So now, what about the real point of this conversation?" Nott nodded,

"What has this to do with me?" he flashed a predatory grin, "Simple. As I said, Draco was your first choice, but he…isn't going to be in a position to be of much use to you, or to anyone else for that matter. That leaves you in the same position that you were in before you came here. It is time to re-examine your strategy, to determine who you will chose to replace him," he shook his head, "A tough choice, there are only a few candidates as I see it," Etean smiled,

"I see, and you are one of those candidates are you?"

"How perceptive of you, I could be as useful to you as Draco would have been. My father may not be the Dark Lord's lieutenant, but he is a Death Eater, and a powerful one at that. As for me…well let's just say that I see the storm that's brewing on the horizon. It's coming this way fast, and I for one intend to be ready for it when it comes," 'That sounds ominous, what does he mean? What secrets are you hiding Theo?…Keep him off guard, keep him guessing for the moment,'

"A storm?" he shook his head, "Drop the metaphors Theo. You mean Voldemort?" Etean allowed a waver to sound in his voice, "He's coming here?" Nott drew back and hissed between his teeth,

"You say his name? I thought you were smart enough to know better," he paused and shuddered, "The fact remains…He…is coming,"

"Here?" Nott stepped forward,

"Where else? His enemies are here! This place and the people in it represent the only real threats to him. Of course he'll come here, and when he does, this place will never be the same,"

"If that is the case, then I would be a fool to stay here don't you think?" Nott shook his head,

"No, this is the only place you can be and you know it. Not everyone is his enemy, not everyone needs to be afraid of his coming. There are some…a select few that are safe. You could be one of them, Draco could have seen to that, so could I," Etean paused then frowned,

"Maybe…but what do you get out of it? Alliances, friendships work both ways Theo, what do _you_ want?"

"You know what I want Etean," Etean put on a fixed, obviously false smile,

"Pretend I don't,"

"You are Lord Etean,"

"A fact I am aware of…and?"

"And, I get to be the one that delivered Lord Etean into the Dark Lord's service. You could be very useful to him and he will know it,"

"Which means you have been useful to him as well?" Nott smiled and nodded,

"To be useful to him is to be safe,"

Something, a tiny glint in his eye, a slight edge in his voice triggered a realisation in Etean's mind. It was clear that Nott wasn't just stating the obvious when he spoke of Voldemort's plans. He had to know something, something stronger than a theory or a supposition. How much did he know? What had he been told? What will he be told and when? Etean paused to read his expression again, the mind was shielded, but the eyes told the tale. Nott didn't really know anything, just enough to scare him. He was worried because he knew that there was more going on that he wasn't part of, there were bigger things playing themselves out. He was fighting for position, struggling to find solid ground so he could keep his feet when the '_storm_' hit. They was nearing the end of this conversation and Etean knew it, Nott was smart enough to play this game of his well, he wouldn't tell him anything more than he had to, 'At least he won't on purpose, one final push,'

"Suppose I don't want to 'Serve the Devil' Theo?" There it was, the slightest tremor. The idea of Etean rejecting his offer of friendship definitely scared him. He covered it well,

"I think you should be realistic about things Etean because your options are limited," he took a slow breath, "You can't hide, you of all people. That leaves you only two options, serve him or oppose him," he turned and moved over to the ingredient cabinet, running his fingers along the join in the doors as he spoke, "You could get in his way and, if you did, I believe you are strong enough to give be a distraction to him, a _brief_ and eventually irrelevant distraction. You would achieve nothing, but you could try," he turned to face Etean again, "But you need to address the long term concerns, your best chance for survival is to serve him and you know it. And for that you need me because the Death Eaters don't trust easily. You are an unknown quantity to them, but you could prove to be a valuable asset and they know it. It really all boils down to whom your friends are, who is willing to speak for you when the time comes,"

"You would to that Theo? Speak for me?"

"I could. It's up to you," Etean let out a slow breath, the conversation was over, he had learned all he was going to learn from Nott for one evening, the offer had been made. There would be no answer tonight, the lack of an instant dismissal guaranteed that but it had to play out. Etean paused, he wanted to keep his options open and so he had to let Nott end this on his terms. After a five second pause, Nott stood. He sighed and turned to leave, 'Play the role Etean,'

"Where are you going? We aren't finished here," Nott paused without turning round,

"I have explained my position and made my offer," he shrugged, "seems to me that we are finished. You should think about what I said,"

"I will," Nott didn't bother to shut the door behind him. Etean kept a mental eye on Nott as he left. He had no intentions to follow him, but wanted to know that he was really gone. Etean's mind started to chew on the conversation they had just had as he left and started to wander the dungeons. So, Nott was a Death Eater, in spirit at least. That was the only conclusion of worth he could come up with, overly simplistic perhaps but it was accurate enough for now. Nott wanted to make himself useful to Voldemort. To use 'Lord Etean' to curry favour with Voldemort.

'But why? Nott is a Death Eater's son, and a loyal one by all signs. So why does he need to gain favour at all?' Etean shook his head, there was something missing, a big piece of the puzzle. Nott was afraid, and it wasn't just the usual blind fear that accompanied any thoughts of Voldemort for most wizards. No, Nott felt as if he was in danger. He was adrift and searching for dry land, but what was he planning? It couldn't be as simple as he was making it sound, Nott was too smart to be that obvious. Etean growled under his breath, answer one question and you uncover ten others. He hated it when that happened. It really was annoying, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't push Nott for any more information tonight without tipping him off and his instincts were telling him that that would be a mistake. So, it boiled down to a simple choice, which was it, Theo Nott – friend or foe?

The answer was equally simple – friend, at least for the moment. Nott was a potential source of information, too valuable to disregard. He was trained to keep secrets, and that meant that he would be trusted with secrets. Etean need only bide his time and keep a close eye on him.

'Great, another item on my to-do list,' he sighed to himself. His mind began the process of reorganisation that always followed any new revelation. Theo Nott was changed from being an irrelevant detail to being an item of greater importance. Thoughts and theories rearranged themselves to make way for the new variable. Etean began to recall the encounters and conversations dotted throughout the last month, replaying them in his head, examining Nott for any signs, any subtle clues that would help. He turned the corner into the corridor outside the Slytherin Common Room and paused, his senses told him that he wasn't alone, a brief glance into the shadows and he located her,

"Ginny?" she was sitting in a dark corner, curled up out of sight. He crossed over to her and hunched down, "What are you doing down here?" he could sense immediately that she was upset. She sniffed and raised her hand to wipe at her eyes before she answered,

"I…I was…" she sniffed again, "I was waiting for you," Etean looked into the shadows at her face,

"What's wrong?" movement, she shook her head and wiped at her eyes again,

"Nothing really, I just wanted to talk is all. I missed you at the Great Hall, so I came down here to see if I could find you," Etean paused and looked at the Common Room door for a moment,

"How long have you been sitting here?" he saw her shrug,

"Not sure," she cleared her throat, "I came all the way down here before I realised that I wouldn't be able to get into your Common Room," she laughed quietly, "Silly huh?" he could feel her looking at him, he smiled,

"A bit," he turned to sit beside her, resting his hands on her knees, "Bad day then?" he asked quietly,

"Not exactly a good one no," she sighed,

"Percy?" she nodded,

"I can't stop thinking about him," the strain in her voice told him that she was fighting back tears, he looped his arm over her shoulder, she shuddered for a moment, "I mean I think about him everyday, but today is different. I keep seeing Lucius killing him over and over. I keep imagining how…how he died" Etean squeezed her shoulder,

"Don't do that to yourself Gin, thinking like that won't do any good,"

"How can I not though? The whole school is talking about Lucius, everywhere I go they are whispering and gossiping and…" she trailed off and started to sob. Etean squeezed her again then let her go and stood up. He turned to her and offered her his hand,

"Come on," she looked up at him, he could just about see the light reflect off the tears on her face,

"What? Where are we going?" he shrugged,

"Nowhere really, just for a walk," he shook his hand, "You coming or not?" he smiled down at her. Ginny paused for a moment before she took his hand.

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Hermione closed the bedroom door and looked around as she folded her towel. She could make out the shape of Pavarti in her bed, she was asleep, but not snoring yet. Lavender's bed was empty, but that was no surprise. She was obviously still down in the Common Room cuddled up with Seamus. Hermione shook her head and crossed to her bed. She dropped her robe on her bed, prompting a loud hiss from Crookshanks,

"Shhh!" she scolded him, "Quiet you," she glanced over at Pavarti's sleeping form. She was still asleep. Hermione clambered into her bed and drew the curtains. Crookshanks turned and turned by her feet. His claws dug into her skin through the blanket. She winced and kicked out at him out of reflex. He let out another hiss and jumped off the bed,

"Crookshanks," she sat up, grimacing as her stomach gave a spasm of pain, "Ow," she hissed and dropped back down onto her pillow. Her fingers idly traced over the wound on her stomach, it was very tender to the touch. She felt bad about Crookshanks, she shouldn't have kicked out at him like that. 'Oh well,' she yawned, 'I'll make it up to him in the morning…give him a treat or something.' She stared at the ceiling over her, trying desperately not to think about…anything. She was exhausted and the last thing she needed now was a night of harsh thoughts and unanswerable questions. Her mind was full of questions, the whole world was one big question to her lately. Everything seemed different lately, the school was different, her friends were different, even her enemies were different. Enemies…Malfoy! He was one of the biggest questions of all. She hadn't seen him since breakfast, as far as she knew, nobody had. She hoped he was alright wherever he was, but she knew he wasn't, how could he be? Her eyes started to flutter closed, sleep was coming fast. As the world slipped away, she could see him, she could see his face as clear as day, as if he were staring down at her from the ceiling. The image in her mind was so clear that she could see the pain in his eyes as he looked at her, pain she couldn't understand. Would he survive this? Would he be strong enough? She stared into his eyes, they were the last thing she remembered seeing.

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The stone floor was cold beneath her feet, the air was none too warm either, she shivered. She had a vague sense that she was not where she was supposed to be. This wasn't her room, it was somewhere else, a strange place. She wasn't alone. The eyes, his eyes were still there, looking at her. No, they were not his eyes. His were grey, they shone and dazzled her. These were dark and honey brown, they seemed be pulling her in. Hermione jumped when the realisation hit her. She wasn't looking at Malfoy anymore, she was looking at an animal – a wolf! Her attention pulled back, taking in more of her surroundings. Darkness was all around her, she couldn't make out any details beyond the coldness of the floor and the imposing presence of the silver wolf sitting, staring at her. It was huge! It looked as if it could devour her with one bite. Every muscle in her body was screaming at her to run, to get away but she couldn't. Something rooted her to the spot, a certainty she couldn't explain. Despite her fear, she knew she was safe, this beast wouldn't harm her, she just knew it.

She stepped forward, gingerly, her legs were afraid of it even if she wasn't. When she got to within two feet of it she stopped, her body wouldn't move any closer to it. She knelt down, her eyes drew level with its face. The wolf stared at her without moving so much as a muscle. She gazed at it, unable to shake sense of familiarity. Its eyes were familiar, they knew her somehow but she couldn't figure out why. Her head snapped round as a wave of pain washed over her, a pounding ache in her chest.

She stood up, the pain remained but it wasn't constant, it came in waves, accompanied by a strange tingling sensation. There was something not right about the pain, she shouldn't be feeling it all, it wasn't her pain. It was coming from…somewhere else. She looked around and could just about make out the shape of a doorway in the gloom. The pain was coming from that door, she felt a sudden certainty. There was movement by her legs, the wolf had stood up and was moving forward. It passed by her and trotted off toward and then through the door. A sudden urge to follow it came over her, again, she had no idea why, but she felt the compulsion nonetheless.

The doorway opened into a stone passageway. Darkness gave way to dense mist and shadow, the details of where she was were still obscured but she got the sense that the passage was long and winding. Through the gloom, she could make out the shape of the wolf as it jogged on ahead. The pain was getting stronger, she felt certain that they were headed toward the source of the pain. Anxious to understand, she hurried behind it, praying that she wouldn't encounter any strange objects in the darkness. The air became heavy, she had to fight for breath. Feeling dizzy she reached out for the wall to balance herself. She slid to her knees, the world swam before her eyes. Ahead of her, the shadow of the wolf faded, blending into the darkness, disappearing from view,

"No…wait," she tried to call, only managing a small croak, followed by a fit of coughing. She coughed so hard that her eyes started to water. The wound in her stomach exploded in pain, she wailed and doubled in agony. A blast of cold air hit her, she shut her eyes in fear as the floor melted away and she fell. In the instant of panic, she was aware that she had screamed but she couldn't hear the sound of her own voice over the rushing of the wind.

A terrifying moment later, she landed hard on a bare stone surface. The pain in her chest and her stomach faded away, replaced by a sudden cold that gripped her. She opened her eyes and looked about her. She was lying on a slab of bare rock, surrounded by nothing. Beyond the edge of the stone there was nothing. The world was buried, lost in a sea of endless cloud that stretched to the horizon in all directions. It looked eerily beautiful, lit by the pale moonlight. Hermione sat up, shivering in the wind as she realised that she was naked. Instinctively she tried to cover herself with her hands before realising that nobody could possibly see her.

Unwilling to stand for fear that she would fall off the tiny platform, she slowly crawled to the edge and looked down. The sea of cloud came right up to the rock, she couldn't see more than a foot below her. The cloud was dense, it looked nearly solid. She reached out and touched it, feeling a strange tingling sensation in her skin. The cloud shifted and washed over her hand, sending a sudden spike of fear through her as she felt it cling to her skin. The tingling sensation increased, running up her arm and along her shoulder to her neck and up into her head. She slumped forward as a wave of dizziness unsteadied her and nearly caused her to roll right off the rock. Getting herself under control, she pulled back. She lifted her hand, tugging a strand of the cloud with her. The strand snapped and released her as she jumped to her feet and stepped back. It coiled and waved about on the breeze, slowly starting to circle round her. As she watched it, another, darker strand rose up from beside the first, twisting around it as it moved. She took another step back and looked around. More and more of the strange vapours started to rise up around her, a thousand different colours, all coiling and intertwining with each other in a strangely hypnotic dance. Soon, she was completely surrounded by them. Gradually, the colour merged into a dull, rapidly moving mass of grey.

The cloud started to close in on her. She panicked and spun round, but realised she had nowhere to go, it was all around her. It got closer and closer, she hid her head in her arms, dropping to her knees as she screamed again. The cloud touched her skin, her whole body tingled at the contact. Then it was gone. The panic left her, she raised her head.

The cloud that surrounded her had faded, to a dull haze. Countless glowing points twinkled and shone in the mist, she felt as if she was adrift in a sea of stars. The wind picked up, she felt a cold blast on her face. A voice, barely audible over the wind reached her ears,

"We can see you," her eyes widened, the stars continued to sparkle down at her. They started to move and dance around one another. She watched them as they moved – in pairs, always in pairs. The realisation hit her, they weren't stars, they were eyes. Dozens, hundreds of glowing golden eyes staring at her. Fear rose in her again, she could feel them staring at her, judging her. Who were they? What did they want?

One pair of the lights detached from the others, it moved closer, flying within inches of her face. She was too scared to move as she heard the voice again, it was different, louder. It seemed to be calling her name,

"Hermione!" The eyes continued to hover inches from her face, their gaze bored into her. The pain in her stomach flared again, she screamed in agony and it was gone. The eyes were gone, the stone was gone, she was sitting on something soft. She opened her eyes and looked around, making out the shape of her curtains, her blanket, her bed. Another dream! Her night shirt was drenched in sweat, she felt a cold shiver run through her. Her eyes darted around, searching the darkness for floating eyes but found none, she was alone. Alone and scared.

She lay back and pulled the covers right up to her neck, still feeling the fear and shame of lying naked and exposed, still feeling like she was being watched.

_A/N: Hey guys, sorry this has been so long coming, but I has been busy of late. More to follow, thanks for the reviews._


	34. Not Hiding

The sun was setting, the room gradually grew darker and darker until the candles lit themselves. The sudden light brought Draco back to reality, he sat up and looked around at the tiny room that was his sanctuary – his prison. His eyes settled on the door, it wasn't locked but it wasn't the thing keeping him here. Beyond that door lay the rest of Hogwarts, beyond it lay people, faces, stares and questions. He shut his eyes, imagining the looks of pity he would receive out there,

'No!' he scolded himself, they were out there and he was in here and that was how it was going to stay. Dumbledore had said that he could stay here for as long as he needed and that was just what he was going to do. He stood up to stretch the stiffness from his muscles and started to walk around the floor. A strange smell floated through the air to his nose. He frowned and looked around, there was a silver tray sitting on the table by the door, covered by a silver lid. He lifted it, noting that no steam escaped from beneath it.

Draco looked down at the tray of cold food on the table. How long had it been there? He hadn't even heard the House Elf deliver it. He prodded at the single pork chop on the plate, having no real intention of eating it. He wasn't hungry, he couldn't remember the last time he had been. He raised a hand and rubbed his eyes, they were heavy with exhaustion and they stung. His breathing slowed and darkness threatened to overtake him again. Draco ground his teeth, banishing all thoughts of sleep and of the dreams that would be sure to follow. He replaced the cover on his meal and turned away, his eyes settled on the pile of the books beside the tray on the table,

'I find that immersing myself in work often helps me through stressful times,' he heard Dumbledore's voice in his head as clearly as if he was standing beside him. The Headmaster visited him everyday, always with a kind word and an offer to listen. But Draco didn't want to talk to him, or anyone for that matter. Talking hurt, thinking hurt, there were times when _living_ hurt almost too much for him to stand. The world seemed to grow colder as he turned and walked over to the bed. The great chasm of despair inside him opened up to swallow him again. He felt his mind start to drift toward it, to the memories and feelings that started to overwhelm him,

"No," he whispered to the empty air, "Not again," he drew his will in and concentrated, extending his mind into the Ether. A thousand different sensations washed over him, the insane complexity of the multitude of minds and souls in the castle. Their combined effects on the Ether stirred it into a maelstrom. Blissful chaos. Compared to that, Draco's mind was insignificant, even to him.

The current of thoughts and emotions flowed over and through him as he drifted with only the vaguest of intent, moving on instinct toward his goal. A slight flicker in the sensation told him he was getting close. He narrowed his focus slightly, drawing towards the feelings he was searching for. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the connection formed,

'Stop it, you know how I…I…I hate to be tickled,' a girl's voice sounded in his head. The thought was faint, he barely heard it, but that wasn't what he wanted. The sensation of pure giddy joy flooded into him and he laughed. Not hard, but he laughed, for a moment. The simple pleasure faded all too quickly. The source – he didn't even know who it was, stopped laughing. Their emotions changed to sorrow. That wasn't what he wanted to feel.

Draco broke the connection but didn't return to the real world. Instead he moved off, searching for another happy soul to contact, another source of joy to ease his pain. It wasn't hard to find one, with so many minds in the school, locating a happy one wasn't difficult. The happy feelings returned and he smiled again briefly until they too started to fade and he was forced to move on. Again and again he repeated this, over and over, ignoring the growing pain of the effort until his head hurt too much to carry on. The Ether faded as his senses closed in. He shut his eyes and fell back onto the bed, letting out long, slow breaths as he started to heal and the pain faded,

"Does that really make you feel better?" Eteans voice echoed through the room, even though he had spoken quietly, Draco sighed,

"Does sneaking up on people make you feel better?" Etean laughed,

"Sometimes, yes!" Draco sat up as Etean stepped into the light. He paused to look at the dinner tray, "You didn't miss much, the pork was a little tough,"

"I wasn't hungry,"

"I can see that Dr…"

"And I'm not in the mood for company at the moment Etean," Draco forced as good a stern tone as he could manage, Etean paused,

"I know you're not. Why else would you be hiding up here?"

"I am not hiding Etean,"

"Well, what are you doing then? What have you been doing for the last ten days Draco?"

"I…ten days?" Had it been that long? Etean nodded slowly,

"That's how long you have been up here, _not_ hiding," Draco frowned, had it really been over a week? It felt more like…actually he wasn't sure how long it felt like. What little sleep he had been getting was sporadic and uncomfortable. The waking hours were a blur of pain mixed with false happiness drained from others. He shook his head,

"I didn't realise…I lost track of…" he gave up mid sentence, not caring about what he was about to say. He looked up at Etean, his expression was blank, lacking the pity that Draco dreaded seeing,

"I know you did," he spoke quietly, "I have been keeping an eye on you,"

"You knew I was here? Dumbledore said he wasn't going to tell anyone," he shook his head again and sighed as he remembered, "But that wouldn't matter to you would it? No thought is private around Robert Etean,"

"Some thoughts are private Draco. But yes, I knew where you were, I knew from the moment they brought you here,"

"So why did you stay away? Why didn't you…" he paused again and swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. Etean took a step closer,

"Why didn't I what? Help you? Make it all better? How? What could I say that would take away the pain?"

"I don't know,"

"Well I do," Draco looked up at him in surprise, "I stayed away because I knew that there was no point in my coming here. I knew what you were feeling, what you are still feeling, and I know that there is nothing that I or anyone else can say or do that will make a blind bit of difference. The pain is part of you now, you have to adjust to it in whatever way you can and in your time," Anger boiled up inside Draco, he stood and advanced on Etean,

"You know how I feel?" he barked out a laugh, "You think that a quick look inside my head, a brief examination of…of whatever you see in there…You think that means that you _know_ how I feel? Fuck you Etean," he turned his back, staring at the wall,

"Draco…"

"I don't want to hear it Etean. I don't want to play your stupid games anymore. Do you hear me? I'm finished, I'm done! Just fuck off and leave me alone will you!"

"Listen to me Draco,"

"I said," he spun to hit Etean, "FUCK…" that was all he managed. By the time he turned, Etean wasn't where he was supposed to be. In the instant he realised that his fist was only going to hit empty air, Draco was suddenly bent double as a blow landed in his gut and knocked the wind out of him. He dropped to his knees and clutched at his stomach. A strong hand seized him behind his neck and hoisted him off the floor, depositing him on the bed. Etean leaned down and seized the front of Draco's robes,

"That is the second time you have allowed your anger to control you, both times you have made stupid, rash decisions," Draco set his jaw, the anger still seethed inside him,

"So what? They were mine to make,"

"True, they were yours to make and you made them. You chose the wrong way…I chose to stop you. That was _my_ choice Draco, now I wonder why I bothered," he released Draco and stood up. Draco sat up awkwardly and rubbed his gut. Etean turned and walked a few paces away, "And for the record, I didn't look into your mind to know how you feel, though I could have. The truth is I don't need to, I remember the feeling all too well,"

"What are you talking about?"

"My father,"

"Your…"

"He killed himself," the silence that followed was almost solid. Etean paused before slowly turning around, his face bore no expression, "Oh I won't bore you with the details, the whys or the wherefores. Sufficed to say, he believed that he had made a mistake, one that couldn't be undone, one that was serious enough to warrant his death," Etean took a breath then slowly started to walk around the bed, "So, he got his hands on some poison – a very rare and expensive poison at that," he paused, both his speech and his movement, "I don't even know its name – huh! Strange that that never occurred to me before…" he shrugged, "Whatever it was called, it was untreatable and it killed him…slowly. Over the course of two weeks he wasted away until nothing but a shell remained and then…" he paused and took a breath, "With me as the only witness, he died," Etean stopped and looked down at Draco, the look in his eyes showed no emotion, he had buried it all. Draco paused, searching for something to say,

"I'm sorry," was the best he could come up with, Etean laughed, the sound jarred against Draco's ears,

"For what? For trying to hit me or for my father dying right in front of me?" Draco shrugged,

"Both, I suppose," Etean waved him off,

"Don't be, one was a mistake and the other…well, just forget it," he walked slowly over to the rooms single window and drew the curtains shut, blocking out the remaining sunlight. Etean paused and sighed as he released the curtains, "Go on then, ask me?" Draco was confused, ask him what? What was he supposed to ask him? "You were going to ask me how I got over my father's death," he turned and looked at Draco, the same, nothing expression hiding whatever he was really feeling. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but could only nod in response. Etean shut his eyes and sat against the window, "Who said I did get over it?"

"But…"

"I learned to cope with it, to be honest I don't really understand how, but you were a large part of it," Draco frowned,

"Me?" Etean nodded,

"My father died in February, and despite the fact that I couldn't care less about inheriting his titles and duties, there were some," he lifted his hand, the silver ring glinted in the candlelight, "that I couldn't ignore. I inherited this," he turned his hand round and looked at the ring, "and with it, my fathers place on the Council. That was when I learned about the Ascension. There were plans to be made, decisions to be considered and a hundred other things to be done. So I just buried myself in work, in the job I had to do," he smiled and raised his arms gesturing at the room, "And here I am," Draco sighed,

"Glad I could be so much help," Eteans expression darkened for an instant before he shook it off,

"Yes well, we aren't talking about me are we? We are talking about you,"

"I said I don't want to talk about it Etean," Etean paused, then nodded,

"Ok, so we don't talk about you," he pointed at the door, "How about we talk about them?"

"Who?"

"Them, the other students in this school and how this tragedy has affected them," Draco stood, feeling a fresh surge of anger,

"What the fuck has this to do with them?" Etean shrugged,

"Beats me, but it must have something to do with them because it has certainly affected them,"

"What are you on about?"

"Something I noticed this week, a general trend in their emotions. On several occasions, I have noticed seemingly happy people suddenly break down in tears for no apparent reason. If the stress of the current situation in the world, or the shock of what happened to you isn't the cause, then I wonder what could be?" he looked at Draco and raised an eyebrow, waiting for Draco to answer the question. Draco paused, then it hit him,

"Me? I have been doing it to them? How?" Etean leaned back,

"What were you doing when I arrived?"

"I…well I…Oh!" Etean nodded,

"Right, oh!"

"I didn't mean to…I mean I didn't realise that it was affecting them. I just…it made the pain go away, sort of anyway,"

"I know, siphoning emotions from others is a tricky business. It takes a great deal of skill and willpower not to allow your own emotions to bleed off into them at the same time,"

"I get it," Draco said, even though he didn't, he was well used to not quite following what Etean was talking about in a conversation,

"It also happens to be illegal in most circumstances. I didn't teach it to you because I didn't feel as if it was something you needed to know. How did you figure out how to do it?" Draco shrugged,

"I don't know I just…" he thought back, when was the first time he had done it? Oh yes, the flight class, "I was standing at that window, staring out into space. Trying to stop…" he took a breath to settle himself, "trying to stop the…the noise in my head. I looked out, there were a class of first years out there, learning to ride brooms. I watched them fly and swoop, they were laughing…the joy of flying. I wanted to remember how it felt. I wanted to feel that way again. I was…trying so hard…and it just happened, I felt my mind reach out to them, past their thoughts to the feelings underneath," he shut his eyes, "I felt them, I shared their joy,"

"You took their joy, sucked it right out of them,"

"I didn't know that,"

"Yes you did, you must have. You felt their emotions change, felt the joy leave them. Gradually at first, then quicker and quicker as your mind greedily sucked them dry and moved on, leaving them crying, sorrowful shells," Draco felt Etean push out, entering his mind. Faces started to flash before his eyes, girls, boys, some he recognised, some he didn't, all crying, all filled with despair. He rocked back,

"Stop it Etean," he grabbed at his temple and concentrated, trying to block the deluge of images, "I get the point," they stopped, he looked over to see Etean nod at him,

"Good, I hope you do. Because you need to understand that while I understand why you did what you did, I cannot allow you to keep doing it. It's not right to do that to others so indiscriminately, and it's dangerous,"

"Dangerous? How?"

"It's addictive," he stood and walked forward, "In the past, it used to be a…well you could call it a vice within the Circle. It was outlawed a century ago when the debilitative effects were fully understood," Draco shook his head in an attempt to dispel the remaining painful images,

"I don't understand,"

"Living the lives, feeling the emotions of others is an escape Draco, you understand that part well enough don't you?" Draco nodded, "Well escape can be a bad thing if used too much. If you continually seek to escape from reality, from duty and responsibility, from…life itself, then you aren't really living at all are you?" Draco didn't answer, he sensed that Etean didn't really want one. He turned and sat on the bed, feeling even emptier than before. Reaching out to experience the feelings of others had been his one defence against the void inside him, his one…escape…and now it too was gone. Etean had taken it from him. He had nothing left, the void would come to take him again and he would have no way to stop it, no escape.

But so what? What did it matter if a few people felt bad if it meant he could survive? He shut his eyes, the images flashed past him again, tearful expressions and empty looks. Those people were in pain…his pain. Their suffering was his fault!

No! Etean was right, what he was doing was hurting people and he had to stop. He sighed. It hadn't occurred to him that he was doing harm, or had it? He had felt the happy emotions fade to sorrow almost instantly after he contacted them, he just hadn't allowed himself to see that he was the cause. Merlin! He was hurting people, willingly causing them to feel the pain that he was too scared to feel. What kind of monster was he? What kind of coward?

"Kill me," he said quietly,

"What did you say?" Draco turned to look Etean in the eye,

"I said kill me," Etean stared at him for a moment then shook his head,

"No Draco, I'm not going to kill you," Draco stood up,

"Why not?" Etean's eyebrows shot up in surprise,

"Do you really want me to answer that? I'm not going to kill you because I don't want to, and you don't really want me to either,"

"Yes I do," Draco ground his teeth and balled his fists as he stared into Etean's eyes, desperate to make him understand, "You said I had a choice Etean. Live or die it was up to me, remember?"

"I remember,"

"Well I told you I'm done. I'm through trying to save the fucking world. So you may as well kill me, you have your answer,"

"It's that simple for you is it, you _choose_ to die, just like that?"

"Don't make fun of me Etean, I'm being serious here," Etean moved round from behind the bed, coming face to face with Draco,

"So am I, you wouldn't believe how much," his face didn't change but his stance did. He set his fists on his hips and leaned his head to the side, "So tell me why you want to die,"

"What the fuck kind of question is that Etean?"

"A simple one really. You're done? You quit? Tell me why,"

"You know why?"

"I'm pretty sure I do, but I want to know if you do," Draco raised his hand and jabbed a finger at Etean,

"Don't start with the mind games Etean, I told you I'm fed up playing,"

"Fed up?" he laughed, possibly the coldest laugh Draco had ever heard, "Tough!" he started to move, circling Draco, "This is one game you _will_ play Draco. But like all the best games, this one is real because we're playing for keeps – playing for your life,"

"I don't want my life,"

"As you have said, but you have yet to tell me why?" Draco's eyes closed in frustration. He was starting to feel dizzy with Etean stalking round and round him,

"Stop asking me that,"

"No, this is my game, and my rules, so I won't stop asking until you answer," there was silence as he paused for a moment, "Well?" Draco stepped away, wanting to put some distance between himself and Etean,

"I said stop asking me that," he felt a sudden motion, followed by blinding pain as Etean slammed him into the wall. He held him there, his feet barely touching the ground, glaring up at him,

"And I said NO!" he tightened his grip on Draco's robes, the pressure he was exerting on his ribs made it hard to breathe, "You want me to kill you Draco? Then give me a reason…Tell me why!" Draco struggled against his grip, fighting for breath,

"I don't want…" he could barely speak, "Let…me…go!" Etean stepped back, releasing his grip on him. Draco slumped down to the floor, feeling giddy at the sudden surge of air in his lungs. He looked up, Etean's image wavered and blurred,

"You don't want what?"

"I don't want this," he waved his arm in a wild swipe, "This fucked up pile of shit that used to be my life. Everywhere I look, all I see is fragments and shattered pieces of what I used to have – of what I've lost," he paused as his breath went against him, "I have nothing left Etean, except pain and suffering. Every time I…every time I close my eyes I see her…" he couldn't bring him sense to say the word 'head'. "I killed my mother Etean, and now you tell me I've been…assaulting other students? I can't do it anymore, don't you understand? I don't want to hurt anyone else and I don't want…anyone else to be hurt because of me," tears flowed freely from his eyes, his voice was barely a whisper by the time he stopped speaking. Etean stepped forward and knelt down,

"And now we get to it…the guilt," Draco wiped at his eyes, slightly clearing his vision and looked at Etean, "I remember that too, and the questions, the endless questions. What did I do? What didn't I do? Could I have done something differently? Could I have been a different person? Would that have made a difference? Was it my fault?" Draco fought down a fresh wave of tears,

"It was my fault, she died because of me,"

"No, she died because of Lucius, he killed her, not you," Draco shook his head,

"No, if it wasn't for me…if he didn't need to get to me…if she hadn't…if I hadn't asked her to help me then she would have been safe," the tears came again, he couldn't stop them,

"She would have been safe would she? I wouldn't call being married to a Death Eater safe,"

"She was married to him for over twenty years Etean, he never hurt her before. He…"

"He never needed to," Etean's voice was flat and even, Draco stared at him, unsure if he had really heard him,

"What?" Etean turned and sat on the floor,

"I didn't know your mother, or your father for that matter, not beyond the files and reports I read. But I get the impression that, despite appearances, she was no fool. She knew the world that Lucius lived in, the life he lead and she knew the kind of man he is,"

"A murderer," Etean paused at the interruption and nodded slowly,

"And knowing that, she _offered_ to help you Draco, you didn't ask her. She decided to take the risk on her own, you need to remember that,"

"Will that make it better?" Etean shook his head,

"No," he turned to stare Draco in the eye, "But it's something to hold on to," Draco took a breath, trying to stem the tide of tears, something to hold onto?

"I don't want to hold on to anything Etean," he lowered his head to stare at the floor, "Please, I've had enough," he set his face and looked back at Etean again, "You said that the Council told you to decide whether I was strong enough to do this?" Etean sighed,

"Something like that, only they used more words,"

"Yes well if you haven't figured it out by now, you can take this as your proof that I'm not strong enough," Etean looked at him for a long, painful moment then stood up, he turned away and sighed,

"Maybe you are, maybe you're not," he shrugged, "But I haven't made my mind up yet," Draco felt a rush of anger, he bounced to his feet,

"You said it was my decision Etean, you said…" Etean spun on his heel,

"I lied," Draco left his mouth hang open, Etean raised an eyebrow, "Oh don't look so shocked Draco, sooner or later I lie to everybody," he shook his head, "Well…I suppose 'lie' is too strong a word, the decision is yours to make, but let's just say I'm not willing to let you make it just yet,"

"Why? What are you waiting for?"

"You. I'm waiting for you to see how strong you really are,"

"But I…"

"You beat the eye Draco, you endured it for almost two months before you did. I watched you face it again and again, and I watched you beat it. That takes strength,"

"So I passed your first little test, it nearly killed me,"

"But it didn't fkill you and that is what matters. You passed that test…and every other one since," he paused and smiled at the look of surprise on Draco's face, "I'll leave it to you to figure out just what those tests were, but you did pass them, and impressively for the most part too if you want to know. You'll pass this one too, in time,"

"This…is a test?"

"Life is a test Draco, always," Draco stepped back. Etean was running another game and Draco was in no mood to play,

"Stop…just stop," he shut his eyes and raised his hand to cut off any response from Etean, "Just leave me alone will you?" he turned away and sat on the bed again,

"Ok, I will. As I said I know you want to be left alone and for now, that's probably best. You need space and you need time, I'll give you that – so long as you stop leaching emotions from random students that is." Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Etean move. A dark shape flew threw the air and landed with a thump on the bed beside him. He picked it up, it was his cloak. Wrapped up in it was a book, the book of Ascension. He looked up at Etean confused,

"The cloak is simple, members rarely part with them. And you'd be surprised how often they come in handy. As for the book," he paused and picked up one of the homework texts Dumbledore had left, "I thought it would be more interesting than this,"

"Oh,"

"You should actually read it, try to find out some of the details of what you will be facing before you decide you can't do it," he took a step toward the door then paused, "Em, I wouldn't let anyone else see that if I were you, keep it wrapped up in the cloak when you're not reading, it'll be safe there," he looked at the door and sighed, "Feel free to carry on 'not hiding' in here for as long as you feel you need to. When you're ready, the real world will be out there waiting for you, and so will I."

He left without another word, leaving Draco alone. He shivered. He had wanted Etean to leave, he wanted to be alone but now that he was, after the first real conversation he had had since…it happened he felt…lonely. He jumped to his feet and took a step toward the door, just one step. The images of the faces Etean had showed him flashed through his mind. He recognised most of them, he could name a few of them. They were out there, suffering because of him. He sat down and clenched his fist, trying to stop his hands from shaking. That door would stay shut – forever as far as he cared.

He lay back and stared at the ceiling. It was a few seconds before the lump beneath his shoulder annoyed him enough to do something about it. He reached round, his fingers closed on the book and pulled it from beneath him. He sat up and drew his arm back to hurl the book away and stopped. He lowered his arm and dropped the book into his lap. Draco stared at it, watching the candlelight flicker and dance on the unadorned leather. 'The Ascension', two words that had dominated his mind for what seemed like forever. The more he heard about it, the less he wanted to know. Since he had first heard of it, he had tried everything he could to avoid thinking about it and what it entailed. He had avoided reading this book, preferring to bury it under his old robes. How had Etean found it?

"HA!" his head rocked back and he laughed. Of course Etean found it, he probably saw Draco hide the thing. And now it was here. His eyes travelled to the door, to the still cooling meal, to the stack of homework and finally back to the book. The Ascension, the future, the end. He sighed, no way out, no way back, the only way he could go was forward. He opened the book and watched the candlelight dance on the pages for a moment before he started to read.


	35. Chasing the Wolf

The eyes moved and danced in the dark, watching her. The voice echoed again, a cold, hollow sound carried on the wind,

"We can see you!" A single pair of eyes separated from the others and hovered right in front of her. Hermione stood bolt upright, coming fully awake again. She shook her head, reaching out to the wall beside her to steady herself. Her stomach was doing summersaults, 'Damn it, get a grip Granger,' she scolded herself. She balled her fists to stop her hands from shaking. Rubbing her eyes, she swallowed against the lump in her throat, trying to force herself to calm down. 'Not easy when you're going insane!' she growled under her breath at the thought, 'Stop it Granger, it isn't helping. Calm the fuck down girl, focus, occupy yourself.' Looking around, she saw that the corridor was deserted. The tapestries and dusty suits of armour offered little in the way of a distraction for her. She yawned and checked her watch, it was just before 3, 'Any minute now…' The bell sounded, signalling the end of class, the sound pounded insider her head, 'Is that getting louder?' Shutting her eyes against the sound, she ground her teeth until the bell stopped, 'Finally!' The not so quiet murmur of relief floated out to her through the door of the Transfiguration classroom as the students inside started to gather up their things to leave, the sound lifted her spirits slightly, but not much.

The door opened and out they came, second years…or were they third years? She shook her head, unable to answer her own question. The junior students were all starting to look the same to her. Out of the door and down the corridor they bustled, laughing and smiling as they went. Friday afternoon always brought this kind of merriment and general good feelings to the school. Another week was over and the students had a weekend of relaxation ahead to look forward to. She smiled as she watched the last of them disappear beyond the end of the hallway. A slight coughing noise behind her pricked up her ears and she turned. Her smile faded as she saw Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway of her classroom. The Professor was watching her with a stern expression.

Professor McGonagall beckoned her forward and entered the room without a word. Hermione felt a cold lump form in her stomach as she stepped forward. Why did McGonagall want to see her? Was she in trouble for something?

Entering the classroom she was greeted by the sight of flying parchment. The Professor was marching between the desks, waving her wand with careful precision, sending reference books and miscellaneous bits of flotsam and clutter left by the class flying to land neatly on the shelves that lined the side walls or in the bins in the corners. Professor McGonagall was always a stickler for neatness, maybe the mess that the last class had left was the reason for her apparent bad mood. By the time she reached her desk, the room was spotless. Still unsure of what to expect, Hermione followed her, stopping about five feet short of the desk. The Professor stood with her back to her, sorting through some papers for a moment before standing upright and turning round,

"Ms Granger, thank you for being here on time. I hope I didn't drag you away from anything important?" Hermione shrugged slightly, 'Oh nothing much, fighting to stay awake, praying I'm not going insane – the usual,' the caustic nature of the thought surprised Hermione, worse still the fact that she had almost said it aloud!

"No, just reading Professor," she tried to sound fresh and chipper, "you know me," McGonagall frowned for a moment, then nodded,

"Yes, I do know you Ms Granger, that is why I wanted us to have a little chat," now Hermione was really confused, this wasn't like Professor McGonagall,

"What do you want to talk about Professor?" The Professor moved her hand to indicate the rolled up parchment she held,

"This," she said simply. Hermione turned her head to the side and squinted at the parchment, she could just about make out her name written on it. 'What?' she was about to ask, but then she recognised it,

"Is that…my essay Professor?" McGonagall nodded,

"Yes, if you choose call it that. Personally, I think gibberish is a better word for it…" Hermione's mouth dropped open. She felt the colour drain from her face. Gibberish? Her work was…gibberish? No teacher had ever used that word, or any other like it to describe her work in the past. It took a couple of seconds before she was able to speak,

"What?" was all she could force out of her mouth, she wasn't able to stop the waver in her voice. The Professor's face remained stoic,

"Let me illustrate my point Ms Granger," she unrolled the parchment and scanned it for a moment before she started reading, "'_Animal to animal transformations are by far the most complex and difficult for a student to master. But, if the sheer complexity of the transformation is the sole point of consideration, then of course we must accept that animal to insect transformations are the most difficult._'" She paused and looked at Hermione, "Do you want me to continue?" Hermione shook her head, not really to answer the Professor's question, but because she was trying to remember writing the passage that she had just read,__

"I wrote that?" she said, then blushed as she realised that she had said it aloud, Professor McGonagall nodded,

"You did, I could scarcely believe it when I read it, but it is your work," she unrolled the parchment further. Hermione watched in horror as she scanned the page, the expression of pure dissatisfaction never stirring from her face, "Contradictions, repetitions and unnecessary waffle throughout. I would have expected such a standard from Ronald Weasley, or perhaps Neville Longbottom on a good day," she lowered the essay and sighed, "but not from you Ms Granger," she turned and walked around to sit behind her desk, "For five years now you have been an excellent student, certainly the top of your class. Perhaps, if I may be so bold," she paused to make eye contact for a moment, "the brightest person I have ever had the pleasure of teaching in all my years here," McGonagall looked at the essay again for a moment, the look of disappointment on her face nearly crushed Hermione on the spot. She shook her head, "This isn't the first time that I have been confronted by a bad essay from a good student. Ordinarily I wouldn't give it more than a moment's consideration. I would simply grade the work on its own merit and leave it at that. But in your case…I feel I need to make an exception," she paused and rested on her elbows. Hermione tried to say something, anything. She felt the urgent need to explain herself. On the third attempt she managed,

"I…I'm sorry Professor," McGonagall frowned,

"Sorry for what?"

"Professor?"

"What are you sorry for, Ms Granger? This is your work…your essay…your grade. You have no reason to apologise to me,"

"But…I thought…"

"Thought what, Ms Granger?" the Professor paused, her expression softened for a moment, "Thought I'd be angry with you?" Hermione was lost, for once a teacher had asked her a question that she really couldn't answer. Feeling tears threaten to overtake her, she held her breath, not trusting herself to keep it together if she tried to answer. Professor McGonagall shook her head, "No, I'm not angry with you. This," she scanned the essay yet again, "isn't the worst essay I've received in my time. Truth be told, it isn't even the worst of the essays submitted for this assignment. If anything, it falls in the middle of the bunch. Had any other student submitted it…" she paused and frowned slightly in thought and then she shook her head and stood up, "This is difficult. I…I am not sure how best to say this, I normally prefer to avoid these kinds of discussions with students but…"

"But what…Professor?" the waver was still in her voice, she shut her mouth and chewed on the side of her tongue in a last ditch effort to stop herself from breaking down, McGonagall's expression changed, for a moment Hermione thought that the Professor might start to cry,

"Are you alright Ms…Hermione?" Hermione blinked slowly, the question stumped her. She rattled her head as hard as she could, trying to shake her thoughts back into motion,

"I'm…fine Professor," McGonagall frowned,

"Are you quite sure?" Hermione nodded,

"Yes, really…I…just have a lot on my mind I guess," the Professor nodded,

"I know you do," she said quietly. Hermione panicked, she knew? What did she know?

"W…what?"

"You think I wouldn't notice the change in you Hermione?" Hermione's mind raced, what was the Professor trying to say?

"I don't understand Professor," McGonagall sighed,

"I tried to convince Professor Dumbledore that he was wrong, that you and your friends had enough to worry about as it was and that knowledge of…current events in the war would only serve to make matters worse for you," she lifted a hand to her brow, "he of course didn't listen and now…look where we are," the lump in Hermione's throat shrank again, she let out a silent sigh of relief. The Professor thought that the briefings on the war were what were bothering her, she didn't know about the dreams. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves then realised that the Professor was still talking, "You have enough to cope with dealing with your studies. You have no need to be burdened with matters that do not concern you," she turned to face Hermione, "I'll talk to Professor Dumbledore, somehow I'll make him see sense," 'Talk to Dumbledore? See sense?' Hermione panicked again, McGonagall was going to try and make Dumbledore stop informing her about the war! 'No!' the thought detonated inside her head, shattering any other thoughts. It took a moment for her to steady herself. Professor McGonagall was looking at her, her expression was somewhere between surprise and annoyance,

"No what Ms Granger?" the Professor raised an eyebrow and stared at her. Hermione felt herself blush, she had said that thought aloud?

"Erm, no…I don't want you to talk to Professor Dumbledore Professor,"

"I know you don't want me to Ms Granger, but surely you of all people will realise that I should. You are exhausted! I can see it in your face. But even if I couldn't, there are other signs. In the last few weeks, you have been late for class on no less than five occasions, your attention during classes wavers constantly and you seem to be less and less prepared for the lessons, certainly less than is normal for you. And now your work is clearly starting to suffer as well. This situation is absolutely unacceptable. You have no need to be worrying about the war, not while you're here. This is a school, you are here to learn,"

"I know that but…"

"But nothing, you must learn your limits Hermione. You are not a member of The Order, as such its business is _not_ your business. As your teacher I cannot stand back and allow it to affect your work as much as it clearly has. And as…" she paused, "as your friend, I cannot allow it to affect you as much as it has," the Professors voice was really quiet as she finished speaking. Hermione shut her eyes, blinking away the first of the tears. The Professor's concern touched her a great deal, but she was wrong, the Order briefings weren't to blame for her exhaustion, in fact she could barely remember the details of the last two. She took another deep breath, she could hardly remember any details of the last fortnight at all. Days blurred together, nights were spent tossing and turning, drifting from one nightmare to another. She looked up at the Professor's face, fighting down the wave of emotion,

"No, please Professor, I'm alright…really. You don't have to say anything to the Headmaster,"

"You're alright?" she shook her head, "don't lie to me Hermione, I have already told you that I know you are not alright. You're…" Hermione spoke before the realisation that she was interrupting a teacher hit her,

"Exhausted I know, but its nothing, I just haven't been sleeping well lately," the Professor opened her mouth to say something, but Hermione cut her off again, "It isn't the briefings that have been troubling me Professor, honestly," she put as much effort into keeping her voice level as she could, the Professor frowned,

"Alright then, what has been troubling you?" Hermione opened her mouth to answer, she had been about to tell the Professor the truth but she stopped. Her mouth clicked shut. How could she tell Professor McGonagall, the most serious and logical person she knew that the reason that she was falling to pieces was that she couldn't stop having nightmares and hearing voices? She shook her head,

"It's nothing," seeing the look on the Professor's face, she added, "really, its silly,"

"How about you let me decide what's silly?" Hermione thought fast, she had never been good at lying, and lying to teachers always seemed even harder somehow. She bit her lip, 'Damn it, where's Harry when I need him?' then it hit her,

"Well, it's just…"

"Yes?"

"It's just that…Harry and I, or no, Ron and I…well we sort of had a fight,"

"A fight?" Hermione nodded,

"Yes, we had a row and now we aren't speaking,"

"What did you row about?" her mind raced, what to tell and what to hide?

"Well…like I said it was silly. Really we just started shouting at one another and kept going. Now…well its kind of awkward being around them," she trailed off, having no further inspiration. She looked at the floor but could still feel the Professor's stare,

"I see, and that is the reason you haven't been sleeping? And why your essay was of such a poor standard?" the lump came back when she thought about her essay,

"Yes Professor, but I promise it won't happen again," the Professor didn't speak, she just looked hard at her for several seconds. Hermione got the distinct impression that she didn't believe her. But what could she do? The lie was told, she had committed the sin and now she had to stick with it to the end. After a pause, Professor McGonagall nodded,

"Fair enough then, if that is what is bothering you," her face and her tone darkened, "I must say that I find it hard to believe that you would allow something so petty and small to affect you so severely but," she shook her head, "I suppose it is an explanation," she turned to walk back to her desk, "Well then, that should be all," she paused before she sat down, "You can go," her tone was flat, Hermione was more certain than ever that she didn't believe a word of her explanation. The guilt of lying to her weighed heavily on her. The thought that she had somehow hurt the Professor's feelings made it even worse, she felt bad, wanted to explain, to come clean but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. Her hands started to shake again as she turned round to leave. She got to the door, feeling the effort of every last step before the Professor spoke again and stopped her,

"Ms Granger," slowly, she turned round,

"Yes Professor?"

"These are difficult and stressful times for all of us, worse if we try to carry the burden alone. I would like to know…I would like you to know that…if you ever need to talk, to share whatever you wish to share…I am always willing to listen. Will you remember that?" Hermione felt as it the wind had been sucked out of her lungs, she wanted to answer, tried to, but in the end all she could manage was a tiny nod. The Professor returned the nod and Hermione left. She managed to walk to the end of the corridor before she felt herself start to break down again. She accelerated and ran as fast as she could back to Gryffindor, desperately avoiding any contact with the people she passed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Etean scanned the page again, gaining no new information at the fifth reading. Not that he really expected to but he needed to be thorough. He dropped the file and picked up another, smirking slightly when he saw the glaring red stamp on the cover,

'_Classified – Eyes Only for Ministry Officials, Level 4 or Higher._'

"Classified by the Ministry," his voice echoed around the empty training room, "Right!" he flipped the file open and studied it's contents. A nearly pointless exercise, the Ministry files on the Death Eaters were nowhere near as comprehensive as those maintained by the Circle, but, as was often the case with such things, most of the additional information was hearsay and supposition. The two sets of information represented two different view points on the subject. Comparing and contrasting the two allowed him to filter out the rumours and guesswork to get to the truth. His eyes settled on the heading,

'_Nott, Theodore M._'

Etean scanned the first page, ignoring irrelevancies such as Nott Senior's date of birth and educational qualifications etc, they were of no use to him. He shuffled the pages, jumping to the first, and most recent of the Auror reports on him,

'_Report on Death Eater Activity Date: __3rd October 967__ P.E._

_Report Filed by: Shakelbolt, K, Auror in Good Standing, ref no: 971086_

_The encounter I detail began as a response by Shakelbolt, K (author) and Goodhall, W (Auror in Good Standing, ref no: 993445) to reported Death Eater activity in __Leeds__…_'

Etean skipped the boring red tape nonsense that always filled the headers of such reports – long winded and designed to make the author sound cleverer than he or she really was. He sighed, Aurors were clever, they couldn't do their job if they weren't, but they all seemed to desire to sound even smarter when they wrote their reports. Sometimes it was to disguise the fact that the Auror in question was doing less work than he was supposed to be, sometimes it was simple ego boosting. A skim reading of the first page told him that this Kingsley Shakelbolt was of the latter variety, talented but long winded. The first three paragraphs were crammed full of irrelevant, poetic nonsense. Eventually, towards the bottom of the page, he started to detect some fragments of the information he was seeking. The report was of the most recent incident involving Theodore Nott's father. He and Belatrix Lestrange had been seen sneaking into a muggle apartment block. The Aurors had responded in force, sending five men to take on the two Death Eaters. There was a clash…and they had escaped! Etean paused to shake his head. Even outnumbering their opponents with better than two to one odds didn't give the Ministry Aurors a victory? Were the Death Eaters that good or were they just lucky?

He read on,

'_Believing that Lestrange, B. was incapacitated, I focussed my attention on Nott, T. He had managed to elude both Reinhart, M. and Ormonde, P., and had taken a Muggle girl (name not disclosed) hostage, using her as a shield to prevent us from attacking him - a disgraceful show of cowardice in my opinion, for him to use an innocent girl like that. I pray to Merlin's memory for the day that such acts of barbarism are nothing but a distant, unpleasant memory…_'

Etean let out a slight laugh, Shakelbolt was a dreamer. Acts of 'barbarism' like that were the result of human nature, and that wouldn't ever change. Death Eaters or no Death Eaters, there would always be people in the world willing and able to hurt others for their own gain. He sighed. Still it was an insight into Nott's character, a clue to the puzzle that was Theodore Nott Senior. The remainder of the report mirrored the details as laid out in the Circle file. The Aurors had made the mistake of turning their back on Belatrix Lestrange, believing her to be unconscious and therefore safe, they had been wrong. She had managed to surprise and overpower two of them before the rest had figured out what was going on. The ensuing battle had left two Aurors in critical condition and the unfortunate Muggle girl dead.

Etean dropped the report and the file and sat back, letting his mind flow. He had assimilated all the new information of value that the files included, now he had to figure out where it fitted into the bigger puzzle. The situation laid itself out before his watching mind. 'Start at the beginning Etean, work it through,' he repeated to himself. The beginning? Well the point of initial interest at least was when Theo Nott Junior had offered what he called an alliance, a mutually beneficial arrangement whereby he would gain favour in the eyes of Voldemort by bringing him the loyalty and service of Lord Etean and in turn Etean would gain the 'security' of being on Voldemort's side and 'out of his path'.

The offer seemed, on the surface to be genuine, certainly Nott had gone out of his way over the last couple of weeks to make it seem that way. Subtle gestures and quiet reminders, all designed to make Etean see the value of the proposition. And that was the problem - his eagerness. Nott was exposing himself, openly admitting that he served, or was willing to serve Voldemort. In so doing, he was taking a serious risk. If Dumbledore or any one of a dozen other people in Hogwarts that sprang to mind were to find out, then expulsion was the very best thing Nott could hope for. Etean bit his lip, Nott knew this, he had to, and yet he had taken the risk and shown his hand to Etean.

Etean understood Nott's reasons, but not his motivation. Nott wanted to be the one to bring the Lord Etean over to Voldemort's side and in so doing, reap the benefits that Voldemort's favour would bring. The question was why. Etean dismissed the obvious answers, greed, lust for power, purely because they were obvious. Nott wasn't stupid enough to be acting merely out of greed, or out of any sycophantic desire to serve Voldemort, he was too scared for that to be true. He was gambling, and the thought of Etean turning him down, of coming out of this empty handed terrified him. Why was he so afraid? And what exactly was he afraid of? Those were the key questions Etean needed to answer now. Answer them and the rest would start to make sense. If he could figure out the cause of Nott's fear, then he would know how to handle him, how to turn this situation to his advantage.

He looked back down at the file on the table, Nott Senior was the key. He was Nott's only real link to the Death Eaters. He was where Nott's fear started, part of it even if he wasn't the cause. He had trained his son to be an Occlumence, maybe he had done more, perhaps he was responsible for his son's actions. Etean shook his head, supposition was only as good as the guess it boiled down to. How much could he hope to learn from reading reports? They were merely summations of events from an observer's point of view, a series of opinions about the meaning and cause of Nott Seniors actions. None of it was concrete, none of it definite. Etean sighed, his head was starting to hurt. Almost without thinking, he conjured his potion and took a draught. As his head settled, he felt a familiar tug on his mind followed by a disturbance in the Ether. Someone was trying to contact him, he could guess who it was.

Sitting forward, he set the goblet down and waved his hand over the desk, whispering the incantation under his breath. The communication bowl appeared. With only a moment's pause, he reached down and disturbed the water,

"Yes," he said quietly. After a moment, Poliakov's face appeared in the water,

"Hello Boy," Etean nodded,

"Evening Old Man, I was wondering what was missing from my evening," he put on a deliberately false smile, "now I know," Poliakov smiled back, with slightly more genuine emotion behind it,

"Very funny Boy, I must admit that my life has been quieter these past weeks, minus your effervescent wit," now Etean laughed,

"Quiet? I doubt that your life has been anything but quiet of late," he paused then snapped his fingers, "but oh yes, I forgot. You like politics don't you? So of course you've been enjoying yourself," Poliakov rolled his eyes and grumbled something that didn't transmit very well,

"It's a little late in the day for you to start insulting me don't you think?" Etean shrugged,

"Ok then, no insults," his tone became serious, "How are the negotiations going?"

"Nearing the end…of the beginning," Poliakov paused, Etean guessed he was suppressing a sigh, "the key points have been addressed and the arguments are underway. At this rate, the treaty will be signed on schedule, ahead of it if by some miracle the ministers actually start listening to one another," he sighed and sat back, the sheer exhaustion in his voice carried through the transmission. Etean nodded,

"I was right, you have been having fun!" Both looked at each other before they both laughed, Poliakov was the first to get himself under control,

"You don't know the half of it," his voice was light, and retained the humour of the previous moment but he really did sound tired, too tired. Etean frowned at the shimmering water,

"Trouble?" Poliakov shook his head,

"No not really, no more than usual in any case," Etean sighed and reached out, tapping the bowl with his fingers. The reflected image of Poliakov stuttered and wavered as the water rippled harder. On his end, Etean knew that Poliakov would be seeing his reflection dance in a similar pattern,

"Don't try to lie to me Old Man, remember who you're talking to," he stopped hitting the bowl and the water settled, Poliakov looked annoyed,

"I know who I'm talking to Boy. I'm talking to someone who should know better than to show such disrespect. You used to, if I recall correctly," Etean raised his hand to stroke his chin, rubbing his thumb across his ring as he did, causing it to glint in the candlelight. He saw Poliakov's eyes dart to it,

"You used to outrank me Old Man," he lowered his hand, "not anymore," he leaned forward, "So how about you stop trying to protect me and tell me what's going on? Has the Council managed to figure out what the Death Eaters are really up to?" Poliakov pursed his lips in contemplation for a moment,

"No, we haven't. Their attacks continue to proceed in a somewhat random, chaotic fashion. Our best explanation is that they are stalling, trying to keep the Ministry off guard long enough for Voldemort to complete the Ascension," Etean nodded,

"Your best explanation? Or your best guess? And what about the attacks on members?" Poliakov smiled,

"There is no definite proof that they are really targeting members at all. It is far more likely that they are acting at random, throwing a wide net of terror and chaos, and that we are merely being caught by chance,"

"You really believe that? With no proof?" Poliakov nodded,

"It does make sense, we are certainly not faring that badly on the whole, only a small number of the attacks are being directed at us. The probability analysis checks out," Etean sighed,

"Probability analysis? Great, another guess," Poliakov grumbled again before he spoke,

"You know full well that ninety percent of our decisions amount to probabilities and a certain level of assumption. You may choose to call it guesswork, but in our world nothing is ever certain, facts are rarely concrete,"

"Spare me the lecture will you?" Poliakov paused, a slight frown creased his brow,

"Ok, but the facts remain the facts, we simply don't know enough of them to be sure of anything as yet. However," he drew back and smiled, "with any luck, things are about to shift in our favour for a change," Etean frowned,

"You really think that the treaty will have that big an impact on the Death Eaters?"

"Perhaps not directly no, certainly not immediately but it _will_ affect the Ministry and, as we sit astride this particular conflict, knowledge of how either side will act gives us the advantage," Etean nodded, remembering the endless lectures,

"We know how the tide will shift, and we will catch the wave, I remember. So, when does it go public?"

"Not until it's ready, until we're ready. I doubt if we will even have an initial draft within two weeks. The final signing won't be for some time. Still, it would be prudent for you to implement the restructuring orders that we discussed, the Etyar will need time to prepare," Etean took a deep breath, then nodded,

"Consider it done, the orders will go out tonight," he reached out to take another swig of his potion. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Poliakov watching him but the old man didn't speak until he had set the goblet down,

"An attack?" Etean shut his eyes, suppressing the grimace at the foul taste of the potion, he shook his head,

"No, not for a while, just headaches. Nothing I didn't expect," he wiped his mouth and sat forward again, "Nothing I can't handle," Poliakov nodded,

"Good enough, but you should probably get some rest so I'll come right to the real point of this conversation,"

"Which would be?"

"The Librarian tells me that you have requested more files, information about the Death Eaters, why?" Etean shrugged,

"I needed to know more about them,"

"That doesn't answer my question,"

"Well it'll have to do. It's about all I have at the moment. I'm following a thread I picked up on, concerning Theodore Nott,"

"Theodore Nott? What about him? He's a mid level operative, nothing more. One of the old guard, loyal to Voldemort since before his first fall but he's nothing unique,"

"Yes he is, I'm just not entirely sure how yet,"

"Explain,"

"I can't, like I said, I'm not sure yet. I'm investigating his son, he's not what he's supposed to be. I have a hunch that it has something to do with his father so I decided to do a little digging,"

"Are you sure that's wise?" Poliakov's voice changed, it took on an aggravating, superior tone that Etean had always disliked hearing,

"Why the hell wouldn't it be?"

"Because it's not your job, that's why. You have other things to worry about,"

"I know that, and I am worrying about them. But there is something else going on here, I'm starting to doubt that anyone here is what they appear to be,"

"I could have told you that before you went there, and did if memory serves, but you need to focus on the mission and nothing else,"

"Do me a favour and don't try and tell me how to do my job will you?" Poliakov raised his hands and waved Etean down,

"Ok, just…be careful. This is too important for any of us to make any mistakes," he paused for a moment, his voice became calmer, "How is the boy?" Etean barked out a laugh,

"How do you think? He's in pieces, damn near ready to give up," Poliakov sighed,

"I wish I could blame him, what are you doing to help him through this?"

"Nothing, there isn't anything I can do. He's too fragile right now, if I push, he could snap altogether. I'll just have to wait for him to get a handle on things himself,"

"I don't think we have time for him to wait for him," Etean shook his head,

"We don't have any other choice Old Man, the die is cast. We can't turn back now and you know it,"

"Yes," Poliakov's eyes drifted shut, "I know."

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Hermione's hand slipped off her forehead, her head shot forward. The sudden movement shocked her and brought her fully awake again. She sat up and stretched the stiffness from her neck,

'What time is it?' she asked herself, rubbing her eyes. She looked at her watch, half past two! 'Damn, will this night ever end?' She rubbed her eyes again and yawned. Turning her attention back to the book in front of her, Hermione tried to focus on the text. It wasn't easy, the words were a hazy blur, they seemed to fade from the page even as she looked at them. The faded fast, followed by the page and the desk, darkness enveloped her,

'NO!' she slammed her hand down on the tabletop, the stinging in her skin forcing her to wake up once more. She sat back and started taking slow, deep breaths, grinding her knuckles into her eyes as hard as she could, so hard that she saw stars when she took them away. 'Stay awake Granger, you have work to do,' she pinched the bridge of her nose and stifled a yawn. It was true, she had resolved herself never to disappoint a teacher again. It didn't matter what else was going on in her head, she had to pull her socks up and knuckle down to her studies. But right now, she had to stay awake, she wanted nothing more than that. She sat back, resting her head on the high back of her threadbare chair and tried to compose herself.

It was dark in the Common Room, only the one small candle on her table was illuminated. Its tiny glow caused the shadows to dance and jump across the walls. 'Too dark!' She reached out to pick up her wand, her hand trembled. She clenched a fist and gently punched the air to settle her mind. It worked, her hand steadied. She picked up her wand and turned, flicking it first at the fire, then at the candles dotted around the room. Their warm glow filled the room and her heart, making her instantly feel better, safer than she had felt a moment ago. She smiled as she looked around, her eyes moving from candle to candle, watching each tiny flame flicker and dance.

They continued to dance, she felt suddenly calm as she watched, an almost eerie peace. Then they moved! First one, then another and another until they were all moving. The peace she felt faded as quickly as it had come when she realised what they were, the eyes! They moved and danced in the air around her, watching her. Their gaze drilled into her, penetrating deep into the heart of her very soul. Her breath caught in her throat as fear gripped her. She couldn't move, she couldn't even think as they stared at her, the eyes of faces she couldn't see. The voice echoed again, a cold, hollow sound,

'We can see you,' a single pair of eyes separated from the others and hovered right in front of her,

"No!" she said, the sound of her voice waking her once more. She rubbed her face then ran her fingers through her hair, it was no good. She hadn't the strength to stay awake any longer. She closed the book with a thud and stood up, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet. She packed her books and parchment into her bag, choosing to leave it by the table, she doubted if she had the energy to carry it up the stairs.

The walk up the girls' staircase seemed to take forever, each step was harder than the last. Finally, she reached the landing. Even through the bedroom door, she could hear Lavender snoring, 'Christ how does she sleep through that racket?' She opened the door and entered, crossing in silence to her bed. Her fingers fumbled in the darkness to undo her buttons. In the end, after about five minutes she managed to get undressed and pulled on her nightdress. Her heart started to pound in her chest as she pulled back the covers, harder and harder until it started to hurt. Feeling short of breath, she rubbed her chest and sat down on the edge of the bed, listening as the pounding got louder and louder in her ears. The darkness closed in on her, she could feel it press into her, she was falling asleep, the eyes wouldn't be far behind. A light! She needed to send the darkness away. She fumbled for her wand, it should be somewhere on her locker. She found it, but her fingers were shaking so hard that she couldn't pick it up. After a moment of clumsy fumbling, it slipped away and she heard it clatter on the floor,

"Shit!" she said, then jumped, it sounded a hell of a lot louder than she had intended it to. She slid off the bed and knelt on the floor, searching for her wand. A noise behind her spun her around, a muffled rumbling. Her eyes scanned the darkened room for the source of the noise with no success. Her wand forgotten, she stood up, straining to hear the noise again, trying to tune Lavender's snores out. There it was again, outside the door.

The sound seemed to call to her, drawn forward by an urge to locate the source, she crossed to the door and with as deep a breath as the ache in her chest would allow her, she opened the door, ready to leap back from whatever lay beyond. Nothing! The landing was empty. She stepped out and looked around, the noise sounded again from the direction of the staircase. She moved to find it, the stairs passed in a flash and she was in the Common Room again. She stepped toward the fire and froze, she had found the source of the noise. Sitting by the entrance to the Portrait Hole sat a silver wolf. She recognised it, the same one she had chased time and time again in her dreams. She shut her eyes and shook her head, 'You're dreaming Granger, this is only a dream,' she opened her eyes, expecting to see the inside of her bedroom but the wolf was still there, staring at her. The rumbling sounded again and now she recognised it, the beast was growling at her, but she again felt no fear of it, it wouldn't hurt her. 'This is a dream,' her voice roared inside her head, she lifted her hand and slapped herself across the face as hard as she could. Still the wolf remained. She slapped herself again, and again but to no avail, she couldn't wake herself from this dream.

The wolf growled again, the sound resonated in her chest, calling to her, challenging her. She felt anger stir inside her, the beast was daring to test her? It growled again, the noise continued for longer than before, it seemed to grow louder. It took her several seconds to realise that she was growling too, answering the wolf's challenge. Then silence! For several long seconds Hermione and the wolf just stared at one another, neither moved an inch, locked in a test of strength, a test of will that neither were willing to lose.

The wolf moved first, it stood and turned, disappearing into the shadows of the Portrait Hole. Hermione felt a surge of elation at the victory, but it faded fast. As she lost sight of it, the ache in her chest doubled, nearly making her pass out. She moved, running after the beast. She had to follow it, nothing else mattered, she needed to catch the wolf, it wouldn't beat her. She pushed the Portrait open and jumped out onto the stairs. She leaned on the railing to catch her breath and scanned the stairs below her. There it was, a flash of silver movement two levels down from her. Feeling rather than hearing the growl in her throat, Hermione ran as fast as she could down the stairs after it, jumping trick steps without even realising. She hit the second floor landing and slipped, falling hard on the stone and grazing her knee.

She sat up, swallowing a series of swear words and looked around. There it was, the wolf was sitting less than five feet from her, it growled again and moved, heading down the corridor. The sound of its growl again called to Hermione, she jumped up and ran after it. It would not beat her! She sprinted after it as fast as she could, round corners, up and down stairs until she had no idea where she was or where she was going. No matter how fast she ran, it ran faster, no matter how hard she tried to catch it, it stayed ahead, out of reach. Anger gave way to frustration, frustration to desperation as she ran on, never loosing sight of her quarry. Finally, she rounded a corner and stopped, it was a dead end! The wolf was nowhere in sight, the corridor extended for less than ten feet before ending in a solid wall, there were no doors or windows, nothing to indicate where the wolf had gone. In desperation, she ran to the wall and pushed, trying to dislodge or break through it.

"No," she cried, pounding her fists against the stone. Where had it gone? What did it want? What the hell was wrong with her? The pain returned to her chest, taking her breath away as she pounded the wall again and again, sliding to her knees as tears poured from her eyes. She sat on the floor, feeling the cold stone through her thin nightdress. She hid her face in her hands and sobbed. The last thing she remembered was shivering and crying.

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Draco rubbed his neck, trying to dislodge the stiffness in his muscles. Only succeeding in making the pain worse, he shut his book and stood up, walking around and rolling his head until the cramp started to fade. His fingers squeezed the leather of the book and he snarled under his breath. Whoever had written the Book of the Ascension had to have been a hell of a lot smarter than he was. He had lost count of the times he had read, then re-read the same passage over and over trying to make sense of it, only to give up and move on to the next one, with the same result.

He looked out of the window at the starless night, trying to empty his mind. He was making headway, if you could call it that. He was certain of one thing, the Ascension was not going to be pleasant, for him or for Voldemort. The final stage, the time when Etean had said Draco had to make his move would come only after hours of preparations. Before that final stage, he would have to go through literally dozens of complex, confusing and, if his imagination was even close to accurate, painful preparatory rituals and rites. He would be subjected to an agonising series of spells and hexes, most of which he couldn't even pronounce, and they were just the beginning? Reading about them, what pieces he could understand left him feeling decidedly nervous. He laughed,

"No Draco, you're terrified," he tried to make his voice sound like an imitation of Etean. To his ears he did a good enough job to make him smile. He was though, he knew it, he was terrified. How the hell could he live through all those things, all the pain and suffering and still have enough left to derail Voldemort? He couldn't do it, it wasn't possible, it just couldn't be. He shook his head and ground his teeth, it was impossible, but what good did that knowledge do him? He had no choice, no way out. Etean wouldn't believe him, he wouldn't ever accept that his plan wouldn't work.

Anger surged in Draco's gut. His mind raged and boiled as he remembered how easily Etean had manoeuvred him into this position. Piece by piece, step by step he had carefully led Draco down the path, removing his options and steering him away from the things he didn't want him to see. Looking at the chain of events, from that first day in Draco's bedroom, it was ridiculously clear. How had he missed it? How had he let himself believe, even for a second that Etean was telling him the truth, in anything?

And now he was here, and Etean was still steering him along, leading him over the cliff and dragging the rest of the world with him. The anger boiled over in him, he hurled the book across the room and roared. What the hell was Etean playing at? Draco couldn't do this, there was absolutely no way it could work, all Etean had to do was admit that and have done with it.

But no, he was Lord Etean, he could never be wrong, never make a mistake, even if it cost millions of lives. Draco balled his fists and clenched his jaw, trying to hold to his anger, he needed it, needed something to hold onto. It didn't work, the dull, empty void inside him opened up and sucked it away. Etean had led him into this, but he had followed. If he had had the intelligence to see things more clearly, then he wouldn't be in this mess, then…she would still be alive.

He shut his eyes as his mothers face appeared in his mind, the memory of their last conversation replayed in his head,

'_I believe I can protect you Draco,_' Damn it, what had she done? What happened to make him kill her? His mind started down the path of what ifs again, what if I hadn't told her? What if I had tried to persuade her to stay out of it? What if…

The thought evaporated as a dull pounding sound spun him around. The noise was coming from outside the door of his room, out in the corridor.

'At this time of night?' his senses extended, he reached out to sense the person on the other side of the door. A wave of fear and pain slammed into him, taking his breath away. His senses retreated, shielding him from the storm. Whoever it was they were not alright. He crossed to the door and pulled it open raising his wand to illuminate the short stairway that led to the secret door that hid him from the word. He reached the bottom,

"Honey bee," he spoke the ridiculous password that Dumbledore had told him would open the door and stood back to avoid the wall as it swung inward.

The corridor beyond the door was dark, no surprise at this hour but the light of his wand revealed,

"Hermione?" she didn't answer but it had to be her, the raging bush of unkempt auburn hair was unmistakable, though it appeared to be even more of a mess than usual. He moved over and knelt beside her, she was curled up in a ball with her head in her hands, "Hermione," he repeated, "What are you doing here?" He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her. She stirred, her head raised and she looked at him. Her face seemed paler than he remembered. Through the tangled mass of her fringe, he could make out how red and swollen her eyes were. The look in her eyes, the pain he saw there filled his gut with ice, "Are you alright?" he reached up and tried to move some of the hair from her eyes. She didn't answer him, she just stared out through her bloodshot eyes. She was shaking, he wasn't sure if it was the cold or whatever had made her so upset but she was visibly rattling, with each breath he could hear her teeth chattering. Tears flowed in a steady stream from her eyes, they shone in the light of his wand as they flowed across her cheeks.

Draco reached up to wipe her face and she pulled away, gasping in fright as though she had only just seen him,

"Its OK Hermione, I won't hurt you," he reached out again and this time succeeded in touching her face. She was freezing, her skin was like ice. She continued to tremble but didn't recoil from him again. As gently as he could, he wiped the tears away as they fell. "What happened? What is it?" he asked quietly, afraid that she'd panic at any moment. She opened her mouth as if to respond but no sound came out except a quiet, guttural croak. She shut her eyes and lowered her head, a huge sob rocked her. Draco looked around, seeking help. He had no idea what was wrong with her but he knew he couldn't fix it. The Hospital Wing was nearby, Madame Pomfrey might not appreciate being woken at this hour, but what choice did he have?

He stood, taking his hand from her face. In an instant she moved, she reached up and grabbed his hand, her fingernails dug into his skin,

"Hey!" he knelt again, "It's alright, I'm just going to get the nurse, she can help you," she stared at him with absolute terror in her eyes and shook her head, never releasing his hand, "What's wrong Hermione?" he asked again and again she didn't answer. He extended his senses to contact her mind, trying to sense what was going on in her head. A deluge of chaotic images and primal emotions poured out of her mind into his, he could only hold the connection for a few seconds before it became too much to bear. He shook his head to clear it, then looked at her again. She was still shivering, he was starting to feel the cold as well, the night air was decidedly chilly. He put an arm round her, lifting her with him as he stood. They couldn't stay here, they'd freeze. He got her standing, though he was sure if he released her, she'd fall down again. Where would he bring her? She seemed to not want to go to the Hospital, and Gryffindor was miles away so there was only one place left. With a lot of effort, he half steered, half carried her out of the corridor and up the stairs.

_A/N: here we go again, another update – sorry it took so long, several reasons, too many to mention._


	36. Howling at the Moon

Finally she was asleep. Why was she here? Did she even know where she was? Draco shook his head, probably not. He doubted if she would remember him finding her, messed up as she had been. Draco sat on the edge of the bed looking down at her. The pain and fear on her face faded and her breathing slowed as she settled. He shook his head and stood up, careful not to disturb her. He walked slowly across the room, pressing his fingers into his temple as he tried to take stock of the last hour. It didn't make sense, none of it. What had happened to her? Why was she here? Why now? There was a sound, just a quiet mumble from behind him. He turned to see her move her head slightly, and then settle again. He frowned in confusion. He had never seen anyone that upset before. What was wrong with her?

Draco walked returned to the side of the bed to get a better look at her, hoping to see an answer in her sleeping face. The moonlight shone in through the window and made her seem ghostly pale as it reflected off the beads of sweat on her brow. A lump formed in Draco's throat as he watched her sleep. He noticed dark circles beneath her eyes, the sign that this wasn't her first restless night. Even now as she slept he could see that she was upset; her eyes danced and moved behind their lids and her face twitched with flashes of emotion. What is wrong with her? She was dreaming, and whatever she was dreaming about didn't seem pleasant. There was a sudden movement as she kicked her legs, casting off the blanket. Draco retrieved it and gently covered her again so that the cold air wouldn't wake her. The question kept repeating in his mind: what was upsetting her? He sighed and turned away, crossing over to sit in the room's only chair. He didn't imagine that it was going to be a very comfortable place to spend the night but it wasn't as if he slept that much lately anyway. He lifted his cloak from the desk and looked beneath it, searching for the book before he remembered tossing it into the corner. He swore and was about to stand up when he felt a lump in the cloak. A book shaped lump! He opened his cloak and the book fell out, landing with a thud on the floor

"Shit!" he exclaimed, his eyes darting to the bed. 'Don't wake up, please!' He held his breath for a count of ten before he relaxed. The sound hadn't woken her. He let out the breath and retrieved the book from the floor. 'What the fuck? How the hell did that get in there?' He frowned. 'Could there be two of them?' He turned and looked over his shoulder at the corner of the room. The floor was clear; he could see no book in sight. It had to have moved on its own. How? Crazy as it sounded, had the cloak somehow managed to retrieve the book? He reached out with his senses and touched the tiny presence of his cloak. Mildly aware of how ridiculous he looked, he raised the book and showed it to the cloak. 'How did you get this?' he sent. He got no concrete response but there was a change in the sense of the cloak. It seemed happier for some reason, pleased with itself maybe? He shook his head and smiled, this thing was more clever than he had thought.

Thoughts of the cloak vanished as Hermione mumbled something in her sleep, something he couldn't make out. He looked over at her for a long moment but she showed no further signs of waking. The realisation that this would be a long night settled over him. He stood up and pulled on his cloak before he settled down in the chair and tried to make himself comfortable.

The night seemed to pass slowly as he read about all the horrible things that were going to happen to him. Eventually he stopped asking questions like 'how much will that hurt?,' and 'how will I ever survive that?' They were pointless.

All the while as he read, he was aware of Hermione. She continued to dream, occasionally mumbling and moaning in her sleep. The whole night seemed to be a continuous nightmare for her but she never woke. At each word or random sound, Draco tuned in, intently listening for some clue about what was disturbing her. He nodded off several times, only to be woken by a yet another muffled cry or indecipherable word. The last time he remembered looking at his watch, it was nearly half past six.

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Etean rolled up the parchment and slipped it into the silver tube. Regal sat on the window ledge, watching him with a disapproving eye. "I'm sorry to ask you to do this my friend, but it's too important to trust any of them."

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the collected owls in the rafters. There was a rustling of movement and a clicking of beaks that told him that the birds had heard and understood him all too well and that they were not happy. He ignored them and reached out, securing the cylinder beneath Regal's wing. "Now, I need you to hurry, get this to Dominic as fast as you can. He shouldn't need to reply, so don't hang around."

He rubbed Regal's beak. The bird nipped at his finger affectionately then turned away, hopped to the outer edge of the window ledge and took off.

The sky above Hogwarts was awash with colour. Purple and black battled with orange and yellow as day and night struggled for dominance over the sky. A beautiful sight from the ground, but it would be absolutely breathtaking from the air. Etean suppressed a sigh as he watched Regal shrink into the mottled dawn sky. Regal circled once then headed south with a mighty screech of joy. Etean closed his eyes and let the sound fill him as he pictured himself in Regal's place. The sky was his domain, his playground. He would be soaring above the Highlands before the sun would make its appearance and wake the world. Its first rays would bathe him as he glided and drifted on the gentle updrafts rising from those untouched valleys. In his opinion the Scottish mountains lacked the sheer staggering beauty of the Alps, but he longed to be flying over them all the same. He opened his eyes and sighed again, watching Regal bank under the influence of an unseen breeze, correcting his flight with almost poetic grace. Etean wondered how long had it been since he had been able to simply fly like that, with no cares other than the wind. He shook his head, too long. He turned and left the Owlery, pausing on the landing and scowling slightly. Being confined to this damned castle, with its cold walls and echoing chambers was starting to get to him. He was really starting to dislike the fact that he was stuck here. In the past, mission or no mission he had always managed to stay mobile, constantly moving to from place to place, freedom. "Stop it Etean, it won't help!"

He scolded himself and turned on his heel, heading down the stairs, forcing his mind to focus on happier things. He paused mid step, like what? He was surrounded by problems on all sides. His mission here was effectively on hold. Draco was wallowing in grief and showed no signs of snapping out of it any time soon. In the meantime he had to deal with the Slytherins. They were a constant droning bore, though made bearable by the vague chance that there might be something to gain from the whole Nott situation. But he was no closer to any progress in figuring him out so all he could do was wait and see.

Ordinarily that wouldn't bother him; waiting and watching were what he had been trained to do all his life. Without even thinking about it, he could list off several assignments he had been given over the years where all he had done was watch, using the cover of playing the innocent child to fade from sight. That tactic had worked dozens of times, but this time things were different. This time, he wasn't just an operative on a mission with a limited view on things. As a member of the Council, he knew just how many different operations were going on at this moment all over Europe. Right now, all over the continent people were working, struggling and fighting, carrying out orders that the Council, including Etean, had given. They were risking their lives on his orders and he couldn't help. In fact, given his current situation, there was precious little he could do that could benefit the Circle and that really annoyed him.

Etean reached the bottom of the stairs and found that the Great Hall was deserted. He frowned and checked his watch, shaking his head when he saw the time. It was ridiculously early for breakfast. There probably wasn't even any food ready yet. He turned to leave, idly wondering what he could do to pass the time until the rest of the castle woke up.

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The wind died, Hermione felt warm all of a sudden. She sat up and opened her eyes to see her own reflection staring back at her. Her brow crinkled slightly as she frowned. The sense of confusion deepened when she looked down to see a hairbrush in her hand. What was she doing with that? Hadn't she just been…Where had she been? The thoughts slid and bubbled about inside her head. She had been somewhere…She was doing…something…Wasn't she?

She looked up and examined her own reflection in the large mirror that stood on the nightstand before her, worried that it would start playing tricks on her again. The face that looked back at her was hers. The eyes, the nose, everything was just right. Except the hair, that wasn't right. It was still tangled a little at the end. That wouldn't do at all, not tonight. She lifted the brush and ran it through her hair, teasing it straight. 'There,' she mused to herself, adjusting the chain around her neck so her pendant hung straight, 'perfect!' A smile of satisfaction spread across her lips. She was ready. Well…almost. Her eyes settled on the band of silver on her finger, her wedding ring! No, it wouldn't do for her to wear that tonight. It tugged free and slipped off her finger with surprising ease. Hermione rolled it between her fingers as her mind wandered back, dredging up the memory of the day she had put it on. She could almost see the minister standing over her…a wedding performed by the French head of state, what else would Lord Etean's marriage demand?

"Do you take this man, Robert Etean, to be your husband?" the minister's voice was gravely and dry.

And then her answer, "I do."

To this day, she couldn't believe that she had managed to keep her voice from cracking as she took the vow and sealed her fate. She shook her head as she dropped the ring on the table and pushed the unpleasant memory aside. That was then and this was now, what was done was done and couldn't be undone. Her eyes darted to the reflection of the clock in the mirror. He would be here soon.

Hermione felt her skin tingle in anticipation. Would he be late? Yes, she smiled, just to tease her. Would he bring her a present? Yes of course he would. She wondered what it would be. Would it be something pretty and romantic or something expensive and showy? How would he arrive? What new trick would he have learned to get past the chateau's security? The questions chased themselves around inside her head in an endless circle. Part of her mind was screaming at her, telling her that this was wrong but she ignored it. She knew the risks she was taking and she didn't care. She was tired of following the rules. For five years now she had done everything that was asked of her. She had kept her vow, been faithful to a husband that was too wrapped up in his work and his duty to the state to even notice her. She had made every sacrifice that was asked of her and she had done it with a smile on her face. She had given everything she had and asked for nothing in return, until now. Tonight, she was taking something she wanted and damn the world if they didn't like it.

Hermione lifted the perfume bottle from the nightstand and started to dab it on, savouring the scent as it filled her nostrils. A drop behind each ear, one on the nape of her neck and, she smiled as she dabbed some more in a few secret places. Something for him to discover later. Her smile faded as she set the bottle down. What if they were caught? She shuddered at the thought. She had only seen Robert really mad once. Just once he had lost control. It had only lasted for an instant before he had gotten hold of himself, but the memory of his eyes was enough to terrify her even now. 'But,' she shut her eyes and took a breath as she tried to calm herself, 'he won't find out, how can he? He isn't even in the country, off on some urgent errand to Belgium…or was it Bulgaria?'

Her eyes opened and she shook her head to dismiss the thought, it didn't matter, it was too late now to turn back. Robert wouldn't find out, she had seen to that. There was no one to tell him, the staff had been dismissed for the evening.

Her breathing settled as she got herself under control. There was movement behind her. In the mirror she saw the door slowly swung open. The hinges made no noise but as she turned she heard the familiar soft sound of paws on the wooden floor,

"Lupie!" she said brightly as the wolf's silver tail cleared the door, "Were you lonely down stairs girl?"

She extended her hand to her pet, but Lupie didn't move. She just stood there and stared at Hermione. A soft growl started somewhere in her throat. The sound resonated in Hermione's head. It filled her mind as a sudden realisation hit her. This was wrong! She shouldn't be here. Lupie shouldn't be here either. This wasn't real…it had to be a dream…

Lupie growled again and turned away. She headed out the door and disappeared from sight. Hermione panicked! Where had she gone?

"NO! Wait, COME BACK!" she shouted as she jumped to her feet.

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Hermione sat bolt upright. "Come back!" she yelled at the top of her voice.

Draco snapped awake so suddenly when he heard her voice that he dropped his book and came within an inch of falling out of the chair entirely. He straightened and sat up, grimacing at the pain in his back. The human spine was not designed for sleeping in chairs. Draco twisted and stretched, trying to loosen the stiffness in his muscles. He looked over at Hermione. She was looking around and seemed confused. Her eyes settled on him and widened in surprise. Then she sighed, "Fuck," her tone was flat as she spoke, "for a minute there I thought this was real."

Draco frowned at her. "What do you mean real?"

Hermione didn't answer. Instead she shook her head and looked around. "So where am I this time?" she sighed, "Looks like Hogwarts." She frowned and looked around again. "I don't see any strange animals yet so maybe this is a new one."

Draco stood up, wincing at a cramp in his leg. "A new what?" he asked. "What are you talking about, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at him. "Great," she sounded mildly shocked, "So it's Hermione again, is it?" She laughed. "But, I suppose it doesn't matter what you call me in here, does it?"

"Ok," said Draco, "you're really confusing me now. What are you talking about?"

"I'm confusing you?" She hid her mouth as she laughed again, "I'm sorry, I don't usually have anyone to talk to here."

"Anyone to talk to?" He sat on the edge of the bed and looked her in the eye. "Hermione, where do you think you are?"

She stared back, frowning in concentration as she watched him. Her frown faded, she drew back and her lip started to tremble. "You're…I mean…this is…a dream…isn't it?"

Draco's mind reeled, a dream? She really is messed up, he shook his head. "No," he said quietly, "not unless you have a very good imagination."

A small smile twisted the corner of his lip as he pretended to preen himself. Humour, he had hoped, might cheer her up. It was a poor joke he knew, but he didn't expect her to cry.

"You're…you're real?" she stammered between sobs, "Then this," she looked around her, "this is real too?" He nodded, "Oh my god…I…I'm sorry."

She broke down again. Draco shuffled forward and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Don't cry."

Seeing her cry bothered him. He decided to give humour one last shot. "It was an easy mistake to make, given how dreamy I am."

He paused for her reaction. To his relief, she did bark out a tiny laugh amidst the tears. She lifted her head and wiped at her eyes. Draco looked around for something to give her. She needed a tissue or…he felt a lump near his wrist. He lowered his hand and shook his sleeve, dislodging the silk handkerchief that had miraculously appeared there. He shook his head, making a mental note to learn a lot more about his cloak, before picking the handkerchief up and handing it to her. "Here," he said and stood up.

Draco crossed to the chair, stooping to scoop up the book from the floor on his way. He stuffed it into his cloak, feeling the weight disappear almost instantly. 'What the?' He dug inside his robe and instantly found the book tucked in amidst the folds. He shook his head again and sat down, feeling a tiny surge of happiness from his cloak. It had confused him, and apparently it liked it.

He turned his attention back to Hermione. She had wiped away her tears and was looking around her again, frowning at the walls. "Where am I?" she asked sheepishly.

"Hogwarts," he answered, trying to sound reassuring, "just like you thought."

"How did you know…?" she started to ask, but then stopped herself. "Oh, I remember…sorry. But where are we exactly?"

"A room near the Hospital Wing," said Draco. "One I didn't know existed until they brought me here."

Hermione looked at the walls again. "I've never been here before." She turned to him. "How did I get here?"

Draco shrugged. "I was kind of hoping you could tell me that."

"Huh?"

"Well, you showed up here last night and started pounding on the door. When I went outside, you were," he paused, wondering how best to say this. In the end he decided to keep it simple. "You weren't yourself. You were just kneeling there…crying, but you wouldn't tell me what was wrong. I tried to get you to tell me, but I couldn't get any sense out of you at all."

Draco watched her face pale as he spoke, with each word she got more and more upset. Hermione sniffed and wiped at her face again, even though Draco had seen no more tears fall. "I…I don't remember any of that," she stammered through shaking lips. "The last thing I remember, I was…" she paused and looked at him for a second. "I don't know what I was doing. But…that was just a dream…wasn't it?"

Draco wasn't sure if she was asking him that question or just thinking aloud. The fear in her eyes was obvious to him even at this distance. "I don't think it was, I mean," he shook his head and then shrugged, "you're here aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Did you…I mean was I…when you found me I mean was I…"

Draco leaned forward as she foundered. "Were you what?"

"Was I…" Hermione paused and took a deep breath. "Was I alone when you found me?"

Draco frowned, the question seemed ridiculous to him. "Alone? Yes, you were. At least, I didn't see anyone else."

"Or anything?" The fear in Hermione's voice seemed to jump up a notch as she asked the question.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked in return.

"Oh," Hermione avoided his eyes as he looked at her. It was obvious that the question bothered her. "Nothing…it was nothing…just a dream I had."

"You had nightmares."

Her head snapped round to look at him. "What?" She really sounded scared.

"That's what it looked like to me anyway," Draco answered. "You tossed and turned all night."

"You were here all night watching me?"

Draco laughed and waved at the walls. "Where else would I go?"

"Oh, yeah I see." She buried her head in her arms.

Draco watched her take long, slow breaths, trying to get herself under control. "What were you dreaming about?" He tried to make the question sound calm and simple.

Hermione shook her head without looking up. "Nothing" was the muffled answer.

Draco stood up and crossed back to sit on the edge of the bed. "It didn't seem like nothing to me. You were really upset when you arrived." She looked up at him, tears flowing again, "and, if you don't mind me saying it," he smiled at her, "you look like hell."

She let out a tiny laugh. "Thanks," she paused to wipe her eyes, "that makes me feel a lot better."

"Glad to help." His smile faded. "But it's true though. You look…exhausted."

Hermione laughed again, louder this time. "You'd be surprised how often people tell me that."

"It is pretty obvious from where I'm sitting," said Draco, "I take it that these nightmares have been a regular occurrence then?"

She nodded, "Yeah, you could say that."

"What are they about?"

"I don't know," she shook her head, "they don't make sense. But dreams never do, do they?"

"Not always, no. But still," he moved closer to her, "tell me about them?"

Hermione frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know, but it doesn't look like I have anything better to do at the moment."

Her expression darkened. "So what? You're looking for a good laugh? A way to pass the time at the expense of the crazy little mudblood?"

Draco drew back. "No…I was just curious…I mean..." Hermione was glaring at him. He shook his head and stood up. "Forget it, I just thought you might want someone to talk to, that's all."

Behind him, he heard Hermione sigh. "I'm sorry, Malfoy…"

Something exploded in Draco's mind, sending a wave of anger through him. Malfoy was Lucius' name not his, not anymore.

Oblivious to his anger, Hermione carried on talking. "…I just don't like talking about it that's all."

Draco turned back to her, fighting his anger down. "Whatever Hermione, have it your way." He turned away again and returned to his chair. He chose a book at random from the desk and opened it. The storm of emotions in his head raged on, barely in check. His jaw silently clenched and unclenched as he stared blindly at the book. He struggled to keep control, forcing himself to calm down a bit more with each deep breath. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her sitting in the bed, but couldn't tell what she was doing. He was about to close the book and drop the pretence when Hermione's voice interrupted him.

"It was a wolf," she said quietly.

Draco shut the book and looked over at her. "What was a wolf?"

"You asked what I was dreaming about." Hermione shut her eyes and took a breath. "It was a wolf, a big silver wolf. I was chasing it through the corridors."

"You were…chasing a wolf...through the castle? In your dream?"

"Yes." She looked at the door and shook her head.

Draco frowned, something didn't make sense. "But…if that was a dream then…" he started.

"Then how come I wound up here?" she finished for him. She looked at him, the look of fear back on her face. "I don't know." Her voice sounded shaky as she said the last part.

"That's…" Draco paused. He had been about to say 'weird', but it occurred to him that in her current state, Hermione might not take it too well. "…unusual." He grumbled inside his head, 'Unusual'? Was that the best he could do? What the hell kind of word was that to describe her dream?

Hermione nodded. "I've been thinking the same thing." She lifted a hand and rubbed her eyes.

"How long have you been having these dreams?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure." She chewed her lip for a minute, thinking. "A couple of weeks. Maybe longer."

"And," he asked, "they're always the same, the dreams? Always the wolf thing?"

"No," she shook her head, "not always. Sometimes they're…" she paused, her skin paled even further, "different."

Something in her voice told him not to push her for any more details about the dreams. Whatever they were, they clearly terrified her right to the core. "Have you told Madame Pomfrey or anyone else about them?"

Hermione's brow shot up. "Why would I do that?"

"Well," Draco shrugged. "Like I said, you're exhausted, maybe she could give you something. Something to help you sleep better I mean," he added hurriedly on seeing her expression.

"A potion?" she scowled. "That's a great idea that is. Sure, drug me up to the eyeballs, that'll solve everything. Wonderful!"

"No," Draco stood up. "I didn't mean it like that. But…I have heard of potions that just put you to sleep," he snapped his fingers, "like that."

"That's just what I need…more sleep," she said sarcastically.

"Yes," Draco answered, ignoring her tone, "you really do."

"You don't understand," she chewed on her lip, "I…I don't like sleeping. I'm…scared."

Draco nodded. "I gathered that, but there are some sleeping potions that can let you sleep without dreaming." Her eyes widened. "At least, that's what I heard…I'm not really sure."

Hermione nodded. "I know, I read all about them. But I haven't tried any of them."

"Why not?"

"They're all really complicated to make."

Draco smiled. "So what? I doubt there is a potion in existence that the great Hermione Granger can't brew."

Hermione looked up at him. "On a good day maybe." Her face was set and blank, Draco half wondered if she was joking. After a moment her expression cracked into a weak smile. She shook her head. "Besides even if I could brew the potion, I could never get my hands on the ingredients. Some of them are pretty rare."

"All the more reason to ask Madame Pomfrey, she probably already has…"

"No!" she cried. Draco stepped back in surprise. Hermione got a hold of herself. "I'm sorry. But I don't want to get Madame Pomfrey involved in this…or anyone else for that matter."

"Why?" Draco crossed to the bed and sat down.

"Because," said Hermione, "How would you like to have to tell people that you were going crazy?"

"You're not going crazy," said Draco soothingly, "You're just…"

"I spent last night chasing a figment of my own imagination through the castle," said Hermione, "Sounds pretty crazy to me."

"There is that…" he said.

Hermione lifted the blanket, then dropped it again and gathered it closely about her. She blushed and avoided his eyes. "I, em…don't seem to be dressed."

Draco smiled. "I did notice that, yes." He rolled his eyes, realising that the comment had not sounded good. "I mean…I…well that was how you were dressed when you arrived."

The blush deepened on her face; she opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. In the end she shook her head. "Well em…what…what time is it?"

Draco checked his watch, "Nearly half ten," he laughed as he stood up, "looks like you'll be missing a few more classes."

Hermione frowned as she thought, then she shook her head. "It's Saturday, isn't it?"

Draco froze in surprise. "Is it?" He tried and failed to wrap his head around it. How could it be Saturday? It should be…he shook his head. He had no idea what day it was. "Oh!" He looked away from her, avoiding the concern on her face.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

'What? She's asking me if I'm alright?' Draco leaned his head back and shut his eyes, feeling the slight urge to laugh at the absurdity of the thought. His voice filled with empty sarcasm, "Me? I'm fine." he lowered his head to look at her. "Can't you tell?"

Hermione bit her lip and drew her knees up to her chest. "Malfoy, I'm…sorry…" If she kept talking Draco didn't hear her. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. The word kept repeating over and over again in his head…Malfoy! Over and over it sounded, getting louder. In the end he had to shut his eyes in an attempt to get himself under control. It didn't work. All that the darkness behind his eyes brought him was the world of his imagination. His father's face hung before him, his expression hard and cruel. Malfoy…Lucius…Malfoy…Draco…Malfoy…Lucius…Malfoy…Malfoy…Malfoy…

"Shut up!" he roared over the noise in his skull.

Hermione jumped in surprise at his outburst. "Sorry?" she said.

Draco struggled to get his thoughts in order before he could answer her. "Stop…" his voice wavered, he took a breath before trying again. "Don't call me that."

Hermione hesitated, then frowned. "Don't call you…Malfoy?" His eyes slid closed as he heard her say the name again. "But…it's your name."

The sound built up again in his head. "NO!" He couldn't stop himself shouting as he moved toward her. "It's his name, not…" he couldn't continue, the noise in his skull was too loud. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Don't call me that ever again."

Words failed him once more. He realised he was shaking and only then did he notice the fear on her face. He looked down and realised that he was standing by the bed, all but bearing down on her. He stepped back and turned away from her, clenching and unclenching his fists as he walked to the window. By the time he opened the curtains, he was able to say, "Sorry…I didn't mean to scare you…I just…"

He really didn't know what to say to finish that sentence so he just left it hanging as he stared at his own reflection in the window. The face looking back at him suddenly disgusted him. The blonde hair, the grey eyes, they were his father's features. Lucius might as well be the one looking at him. He shut his eyes and pressed his forehead into the window pane. "Fuck!" he whispered.

Behind him, there was a rustle as Hermione stood up. She draped the blanket around her as she walked toward him. "You're not your father."

Draco tried to ignore her, he'd heard this speech before. He lifted his head and pounded it into the glass, hoping that the sound of the impact would be enough to drown her out. It wasn't!

Draco spun to face her. He couldn't bear to hear her feeble attempts to placate him. "Spare me the 'you're not Lucius' speech, will you? I really don't want to hear it."

"I'm sorry…" Hermione began.

"And stop apologising," Draco snarled, cutting her off. "Just…" he turned away again. "Just go…Leave me alone."

"I…"

"I said stop." His shoulders sagged under the weight of his emotions. "Please!" It came out as a plea. Draco didn't want it to, but it did. The roaring sound in his ears was starting to hurt.

"Ok, I didn't mean to upset you…Draco."

The noise in his head stopped! The only thing he could hear was the slowly fading pounding of his pulse in his ears. THUMP-THUMP …Thump-Thump…thump-thump… it faded away to nothing. His mind drifted back to the last time he had heard his name sound like that. The dream, the last time she had said it. It had affected him then, and it did now. The sound brought a strange kind of peace to his mind. He stared at her, relishing the blissful silence. But, all too soon, his gaze made her uncomfortable.

Hermione stepped back and looked down at her feet. "Em," she stammered as she lifted the blanket, wrapping it more securely about her shoulders, "I think…maybe I should leave. People will be wondering where I am."

"Ok," he said, though it occurred to him that he didn't really want her to go anymore.

"Erm, could you do me a favour though?" she asked.

"What?" he said, taking a step toward her.

"Well," she looked up and started when she saw how close he was to her. She blushed, the proximity seemed to make her uncomfortable, but she didn't step away. "Can I borrow some clothes? I mean…" she blushed. "I can't go running through the castle in my nightshirt, can I?"

"You mean you can't do it again?" He smiled at her. Her blush deepened as he reminded her how she had gotten there in the first place.

"Yeah, I guess that is what I meant," she said quietly. "So do you have something I can wear?"

Draco thought about it…clothes?

"No," he shook his head and tugged on his robes. "Only what I'm wearing. But," he smiled and took out his wand, "that shouldn't be a problem for long."

Draco stepped took aim at the table and pictured a set of witches robes.

"Vestima Exhume!" he said. A burst of red light burst from his wand and deposited at pile of pale blue cloth on the table. He turned to Hermione, "Hope they fit," he said.

Hermione shuffled over to the table and picked up the robes, examining them briefly before she turned to him. "That should do…erm…excuse me."

Draco looked at her for a moment before he caught on. "Oh," he said as he turned round, "right."

He could hear the sounds of her getting dressed from behind him. It was a serious effort for him not to turn round to look at her but he managed it. He ground his teeth and tried to force himself to think of something else.

"Draco?" Hermione said, bringing his attention right back to her.

"Yes," he answered.

"How long do you plan on staying here?"

The question irritated him. "I don't know," he spat.

But then he thought about it, how long did he plan on staying there? Since he had been here, neither Etean nor Dumbledore had actually asked him that question, so he had never had to answer it. "As long as it takes" was the best answer he could give.

"As long as what takes?"

Draco started to turn, then remembered. "I don't know," he said.

He hoped she wouldn't press him further. He had given her the simple answer. But he found himself wondering if it was it the truth?

"Ok," Hermione said. There was a sound of a heavy cloth being dropped onto the bed. "You can turn around now."

Draco turned to see her straightening the blanket on the bed. The robes he had conjured for her seemed to fit pretty well. He watched her, the robes were familiar. The colour, pale blue, reminded him of something…or someone!

"Oh no," he sighed as it hit him. He turned and sat on the table, not trusting his legs to support him. Of all the colours in the world, why that one? Of all the clothes he could have conjured for her, why did it have to be those?

"What?" Hermione turned round, sounding worried, "what did I do?"

Draco raised his left hand and pressed his fingers into his eyes, trying to hold back the tears inside him. Hermione walked over to him and repeated her question,

"Nothing," he answered eventually. "You did nothing. It's just those robes," he reached out and touched the fabric. Hell, they even felt like hers. "They were my mothers." He looked up to see a look of shock on her face. "I mean…" he corrected himself, realising that what he had just said made no sense. "This," he stroked the fabric again, "this was her favourite colour. She must have had…dozens, hundreds of robes in this colour…this fabric. She wore them all the time. Whenever I see her in my head, she's wearing robes like these…"

He felt tears coming and looked away from her, not wanting her to see him cry. Hermione reached out and took hold of his chin. Gently she lifted his head until he was looking at her again.

"It's alright, Draco," she said.

He wanted so badly for her words to be true. He would have given anything for everything, or even anything to be alright. Draco let himself stare into her eyes. He was willing and even eager for them drew him in, just as they always did. But now it was different, now those honey brown orbs were filled with sorrow and, he realised, pity. The shock of the realisation hit him like a bucket of ice water, she pitied him! The idea, the thought revolted him. How could she pity him? Nobody pitied him! The anger inside him snapped him out of his stupor. He straightened and drew back.

"Don't!" He turned his head away. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you feel sorry for me. I don't need your pity, or anyone else's for that matter." He pushed her back a step and stood up straight.

"Draco…" she started, he raised his hand to stop her.

"Just…go, Hermione," he pointed to the door, "the password is 'Honey Bee'. That will allow you to leave."

Draco turned his back on her and returned to the window. Hermione gathered her things and opened the door to leave. To leave him alone…again.

"Hermione?" he called after her.

"Yes," she answered.

"The password will let you back in too…" he turned to her, "If…you wanted to come back sometime that is."

Hermione looked at him for a moment, then nodded and left without a word.

_A/N: Here you go, the next exciting chapter. Sorry it took so long but I was busy solidifying my plans for the rest of the story. Its going to be a blast guys._

_Thanks to Raela for sorting out some of the formatting (dialogue) issues – between us I hope it makes sense._


	37. Truth Toffees

_Special Note:_

_ It has recently come to my attention that, according to JKR (and the Harry Potter Lexicon), the gender of Blaise Zabini has been officially tied down and…HE is a wizard. Obviously this has come as a shock to me, but it really doesn't matter. For those of you on your first read through my story, this will make no sense as you have already read the character as a male. For those who have been here since this started, I apologise. I have edited the following – Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 21 and Chapter 27, just changing shes to hes etc. I have also slightly enhanced the mention of him in this chapter to clear up any doubts that may linger. Sorry for the mix-up, this will be the last (I hope) reworking I have to do._

_End note._

Etean adjusted the pillow beneath his head then rested on his hand, letting out a quiet sigh of contentment. He stared at the ceiling, focusing on nothing in particular, and let his mind drift. Somewhere beneath his chin, Ginny stirred. If he were asked to give his true opinion of the best way to waste an afternoon then, in Etean's mind, there were few things that would top a couple of hours cuddled up in a darkened room with a pretty girl. Etean liked spending time with Ginny; she was…simple. It occurred to him that this might not be a good word to use to describe one's girlfriend, but compared to all the other things in his life, simple was a damned good thing to be.

Ginny lifted her head, coming into his field of vision. She looked down at him through her sleepy eyes and smiled.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him.

"Nothing," he raised a hand and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, "nothing at all."

Ginny leaned down and kissed him briefly before returning her head to his chest. He heard her yawn. "How long have I been asleep?" she mumbled.

Etean freed his hand from behind his head so he could check his watch. "An hour maybe."

"An hour?" she said, "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Don't know," he shrugged. "You seemed happy enough. Besides," he grinned, "if I had woken you, I would have had to talk to you…ouch!" he exclaimed as she slapped him playfully.

"Serves you right," she grunted and laid her head once again above his heart. Etean brought his hand up from behind her back and started to idly play with her hair. "This is nice," she said after several moments of silence.

"Yes it is," he replied.

Ginny adjusted her head to a more comfortable position and snuggled closer to him. "I want to stay here all day…just like this." Etean could barely hear her voice.

"I wouldn't mind to tell you the truth, but," he lifted returned his free hand to beneath his head, "unfortunately we can't."

"Why?" she asked.

"It's almost half past five, that's why. Nearly time for dinner."

"So? We can make our own dinner here, can't we?"

"We could I suppose," he answered. "But…I have to go to Quidditch practice in an hour anyway."

"But," Ginny lifted her head, "it'll be dark by eight. By the time you get changed and all it'll be nearly time to come in."

Etean laughed. "Clearly you have never been on a team trained by Blaise Zabini." He shook his head. "The guy is a dictator and no mistake. He claims he wants us to train at dusk, in the half light, just to see if we can work together without relying on seeing one another."

"But," Ginny frowned, "that doesn't make sense. What do you need to learn to play in the dark for? All your matches will be played during the day."

"I know." Etean sighed. "But tell that to our glorious captain," he added sarcastically.

Ginny smiled. "Aww poor Etean." She kissed him quickly. "Why don't you forget about training …and stay here with me," she said suggestively.

Etean grinned. "Yeah," he took her hand and started to play with her fingers, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"It could be fun," she whispered.

"Fun…" Etean let his voice trail off as he untangled his fingers from her hair and started to trail his them slowly down her back to rest on her hip. Her grin faded, she lowered her head toward him for a kiss. "Of course," he said suddenly when their lips were less than an inch apart. "How do I know that you don't have other motives?" He released her hand and traced a second line to her waist.

"Like what?" she asked, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Well," he said, starting to run his fingers in little circles across her hips and backside, prompting a couple of involuntary twitches from her. A smile spread across his lips. "You could have been sent here by your Gryffindor cronies to distract the Slytherin Seeker. You know…keep me from training to increase your chances in the match."

Ginny drew back, her eyebrows rose in surprise. "You know, I never thought of that," she said thoughtfully. "That would be an idea, wouldn't it?"

"A very _good_ idea if you ask me." Etean nodded, forcing his face to become serious. "You need all the help you can get if you are going to beat us."

"Is that so?" she asked, suppressing a smile. "Well in that case," she leaned in again, "it'll have to be a good distraction, won't it?"

Etean didn't get the chance to answer. Ginny trapped his mouth with hers, pressing her tongue out to part his lips. Etean didn't resist her in the slightest, preferring instead to occupy himself with exploring the warm recesses of her mouth. The kiss deepened, Ginny reached up and started to tug gently at his hair. With each passing moment Etean felt his pulse race harder. He felt as though he could carry on like this forever, but in the end it was a matter of will that made him break the kiss, that and a need for air,

"That's your idea of a good distraction is it?" he asked, making his voice sound bored.

A momentary flash of doubt crossed her face. "Isn't it?" she sounded slightly worried.

"No," he said flatly, "this," he kissed her for a second, "passes the time. But," his fingers tightened on her hips and he started to tickle her, "this…" he said amidst her fit of giggles, "is a distraction," he finished, intensifying the torture.

Ginny struggled and wriggled about, laughing all the time. Her hands flailed about wildly in an attempt to trap his long enough for her to get away,

"Stop…Stop it…" she yelped.

Etean had no intention of stopping; he ignored her pleas and continued to tickle her harder than before. Ginny twisted and wriggled as she continued to try and escape. She rolled off him and onto the floor but even that didn't give her any peace. Etean rolled with her, landing on top of her on the floor, moving his hands rapidly along her torso. Ginny stopped begging for mercy. Realising that he wouldn't let her escape him, she decided to retaliate. Etean felt her fingers find the sensitive spots on his stomach and dig in. With his hands busy tickling her he was in no position to stop her. There was nothing he could do but grin and bear it, or rather laugh and bear it! They yelped and screamed, laughed and struggled together as they rolled around on the floor for a full five minutes before they were both exhausted. Etean came to rest lying on top of her, blinking away tears of laughter. Both of them were out of breath. They lay there panting and giggling as they struggled for air. When he felt his strength return, Etean raised himself off her and looked down into her eyes.

"Now," he said as his breathing finally slowed, "does distracting me still seem like a good idea?"

Ginny didn't answer for a while, she just lay there giggling. "Could be fun I think, yeah," she said eventually. He felt her fingers run over his abdomen again, though not hard enough to start off another tickling session. "Certainly wouldn't be boring that's for sure," she said with an impish, playful tone.

"Oh, I think I can guarantee that alright." He lowered himself closer to her. "But, you do realise what you've let yourself in for."

"What?"

"Well," he nuzzled her lips with his nose, "It's over two full weeks till the match. And if it's going to be your job to distract me from training, I'll have no choice but to return the favour."

Ginny's eyebrows rose again. "You think you'll be enough to distract me from Quidditch, do you?"

Etean didn't answer, he just nodded and brought his lips down onto hers, ending the conversation.

-

Hermione got fed up shoving her food around her plate and dropped her fork with a clatter on the table.

"Is there something wrong Hermione?" Lavender asked between mouthfuls of mashed potato. "You've barely touched your dinner."

Hermione nodded and sighed. "Not really hungry I guess."

"You said you were," said Lavender. "And you made short work of the bangers." She nodded at Hermione's plate of Bangers and Mash, now devoid of any bangers.

Hermione shrugged. "Well I just picked at them really." She checked her watch; it was heading for seven. Another long evening stretched out ahead of her, the long, slow march toward sleep. Thinking about it made her shiver. She knew that despite her will, despite all her efforts to stay awake, the dream would come again! Her mind painted a picture of it inside her head: she saw the sky, the mountain…the eyes! She shivered again as she saw them again and sat bolt upright. Lavender was staring at her with a look of deep concern on her face. Hermione smiled at her and stood up.

"I'll see you later," she said quietly and turned to leave.

"Yeah," Lavender replied, "later."

Hermione turned and walked slowly along the Gryffindor table. She passed by Harry; he had his back to her talking to Ron sitting opposite him. Hermione avoided looking directly at them as she passed but she could almost feel Ron looking at her. Their conversation drifted on the air to her ears.

"…Dean saw them I'm telling you. He said that she's with him right now, somewhere in the castle," said Ron. "Fuck knows what he's doing to her." He growled the last part.

"I don't think he's doing anything to her, Ron," replied Harry. "Not like you mean anyway…" Harry's voice trailed off.

"Of all the people she could have chosen, why him?"

"How should I know," said Harry. "Why don't you ask her instead of badgering and moaning at me all the time?"

"Sorry!" said Ron indignantly. "Forget I said it."

"Gladly," said Harry.

Hermione felt a tiny smile tug at her lips as she reached the doors of the Great Hall. Harry and Ron would always be the same no matter what. They would forever argue with one another over the slightest thing that came along and then be best friends again at the drop of a hat. How did they do that? She had lost count of the number of times she had been in the middle of one or other of their little spats. Her smile faded, she missed those days. Right now worrying about someone else's problems sounded like heaven. Hermione left the Hall and stopped by the end of the stairs to rub her temple. Her head hurt. Fresh voices floated on the air to her.

"You really like those awful sandwiches don't you?" said a familiar male voice.

Hermione turned at the sound of laughter to see Ginny emerge into the Entrance Hall from the first floor corridor with…Etean! They entered hand in hand, seemingly not aware of anyone else. Hermione's heart skipped a beat. He was here! Four days, she had gone four days without seeing him but now he was here. A fierce blush exploded across her cheeks. She wanted to leave, to run away before he saw her but she couldn't. There was nowhere to go without it appearing obvious, no escape for her this time. She stood there open mouthed and flat footed as the minister's voice came back to her again.

'Do you take this man, Robert Etean, to be your husband?'

'I do!'

Hermione shook her head and turned her attention to Ginny. She was laughing and smiling up at Etean with a doe-eyed expression.

"Yes, I do," she answered his question.

Hermione's stomach flip-flopped. 'I do!' The words kept echoing inside her head.

"They're nice!" Ginny continued. "They're good for you, too, and I won't hear another word against them," she said with a tone of finality like she expected that statement to be beyond question.

Hermione watched as a slight frown crinkled Ginny's brow as she looked at Etean. Hermione's eyes darted to him involuntarily and froze. Etean was looking at her, his eyes were like two shining balls of ice. Hermione felt her stomach cave in as she looked at them.

"Hermione!" Ginny said in a slightly forced tone, an edge of confusion more than clear. "Is something wrong?"

Hermione frowned slightly and was about to respond when Etean spoke. "What could be wrong, Ginny?" he said calmly. There was no trace of emotion in his voice, though a slight, barely noticeable smile twisted his lip. "It looks to me as though Granger is a little embarrassed about something," the hardness faded from his eyes as he looked to Ginny, "not a big deal."

His tone stirred something in Hermione. The eerie suspicion she felt whenever she saw him returned stronger than ever. It added to her already shaky state of mind and made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Now that she was free of his stare, Hermione was able to look away. Her gaze moved to Ginny; she was staring at Etean, a confused frown still on her face. Etean smiled at her.

"What?" he asked innocently.

The feeling of suspicion was joined by a noise inside her head, a deep growling sound. She felt the hair stand on the back of her neck as she watched him ignore her and continue to talk to Ginny as if she weren't there. After a few whispered comments were exchanged, Ginny's expression softened. She smiled and reached out to grab his tie. Tugging at it she drew him into a kiss. Hermione averted her eyes, fighting back the sudden urge to scream at them to stop.

"Go on then," Ginny laughed when they finally separated, "go train with the Slytherins. I'll _distract_ you later."

They both laughed at this comment, though the source of the humour was beyond Hermione's understanding. She watched them smile and banter with one another for several moments before she realised that she was staring and snapped out of it. She moved past them to head up to the stairs and was halfway up the first staircase when Ginny called after her.

"Hermione, wait." Hermione turned round. "Are you going to the dorm?"

"Yes," Hermione answered.

"Cool," said Ginny, turning back to Etean, "I'll walk up with y…"

Her voice faded away as Etean kissed her again. Hermione again felt uncomfortable with their behaviour but found herself unable to look away. The growling noise in her head had faded when he had looked away from her but the suspicion remained. Something about Etean wasn't quite right. He was hiding…something. She shook her head to dismiss the thought. Logically, there was no reason to suspect him. But then logic hadn't been a big part of her life lately, had it?

Ginny and Etean finally separated, Ginny shoving him back with a wicked laugh. Hermione waited patiently as Ginny walked backwards up the stairs, blowing Etean a kiss at each step. He just stood there, smirking as he watched her. Ginny drew level with her and turned round to head up to the dorm. Etean's eyes darted back to her again for an instant. The growl rose in volume again as an icy gleam flashed across his eyes, sending a shiver down her spine. She shuddered slightly and turned away, jogging to catch up with Ginny on the second landing.

"Seriously Mione," said Ginny, "are you alright?"

"What? Oh…why does everyone keep asking me that?" Hermione snarled. "And don't call me Mione, you know I hate that stupid nickname."

Ginny giggled. "Yeah, right," she said. "Sorry, I forgot. But really though," she stopped and took hold of Hermione's arm, "you look awful…exhausted."

Hermione sighed. "Why does everyone say that to me too?" She shook her head and continued on up the stairs.

-

Etean watched with a smile as Ginny blew him kiss after kiss, backing up the stairs away from him. He smiled and continued to watch her until she reached Granger and turned around. His eyes moved to Granger and he was unable to quash the momentary surge of emotion. His vision blurred slightly as raw ethereal power flashed in his eyes. Granger turned away; Etean sensed her fear with a degree of satisfaction. A tingle of sensation ran down the back of his neck. He extended his senses slightly, just enough to identify the person approaching from behind him.

"Hello, Theo," he said without turning round, sensing a surge of surprise from Nott as he stopped behind him.

"How do you do that?" Nott asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"It isn't too hard." Etean smiled as he turned round. "You should maybe lay off the cologne if you are planning on sneaking up on people in the future. The bottle says 'apply liberally', not 'open bottle and bathe!'"

He turned to look at Nott. His smile faded when he saw that Nott wasn't looking at him. He was looking past him toward the stairs with a strange, hungry expression on his face. Etean turned to see what he was looking at. There was nobody in sight on the stairs except for Ginny and Granger. Nott was looking at them…looking at Ginny!

Etean turned back to Nott. "Ah-hem." he cleared his throat with a little force to get his attention. When Nott looked at him he raised his eyebrow, letting his expression ask the question for him.

Nott looked slightly confused. "What?" he asked.

"That is what I was about to ask you actually." He flicked his head toward the direction that Ginny had headed. "Taking a good look are we?" he asked, letting an edge show through his voice.

Nott frowned for a second then barked out a laugh. "Relax! I'm not interested in your little Weasel."

"Careful…" Etean warned him.

Nott ignored the warning and shook his head. "Whatever mate. I swear I don't know what you see in that girl."

"I see none of your business, Theo." Etean moved away. "Get the point?" he asked over his shoulder. He made it three steps before it hit him. Nott was staring at…"Granger?" he spat the question as he turned around to face Nott again. "You were staring after Granger?"

"Oh don't look so shocked," he said, walking to join Etean as they both turned and headed out of the castle. "You can't tell me that you haven't noticed her. I've seen you looking at her when you think that nobody's watching you."

"Believe me," Etean snarled, "you are _way_ off on that." He stared ahead of him as he walked on, forcing himself to calm down. "I am somewhat surprised at you though. She doesn't strike me as your type." He managed to keep his voice even.

Beside him, Nott shrugged. "Not my type eh?" He laughed. "You've got that right."

Etean frowned. "But then…"

"It's not like I want to marry the girl or anything," said Nott, "I know I'm too good for her. I mean she's fucking Mudblood of all things, and a particularly annoying one at that, the little 'know-it-all'."

Etean sighed. This was one conversation he did not want to have. "I have a feeling that there is a 'But…' coming here soon." He glanced sideways at Nott.

"But…" said Nott smiling, "well the fact that she's beneath me shouldn't stop me from having some fun, should it?" His smile turned wicked. "In fact, I think that having her beneath me would be a lot of fun. I think that there are one or two things I could show her. Things she definitely _doesn't_ know about."

"Stop it," Etean snapped. "Just stop it, will you? I'm going to throw up in a minute here!"

"I didn't take you for a prude, Etean," said Nott in an amused tone.

They reached the outer door to the stadium changing rooms. Etean stopped and turned to Nott. "Oh, I'm no prude, believe me. I would simply prefer it if you keep your little fantasies to yourself in future. They annoy me."

"Fair enough," was the answer from Nott, spoken through a smirk. Etean made to pass him and enter the changing rooms but Nott stopped him. "Eh…one thing before we go in."

"Yes?" said Etean impatiently.

"It's nothing really, sort of an automatic thing between friends. I feel I really don't need to ask but…"

"But what?" barked Etean.

"Well…I hope you understand that this…conversation is to be kept between us." He paused and pointed to the door of the changing room. Etean imagined that the other team members were already getting changed within. "It isn't any of…anyone else's business," finished Nott.

Etean paused for a moment, savouring the moment of hesitation on Nott's face. "This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain Slytherin Chaser, who just so happens to be your girlfriend, does it?" He smiled at the reaction.

Nott shrugged innocently. "It might do."

Etean laughed. "Little Miss Annabelle Turner wouldn't be too happy to hear about your sordid little musings, eh?"

"You can say that again," Nott winced. "So…between us?" he asked.

Etean nodded. "Fine! Believe me Theo I have no desire to repeat this conversation to anyone." He turned and entered the doorway. "But," he couldn't resist adding over his shoulder as he walked down the short corridor to the changing room, "I just hope I don't let something slip at the wrong moment." He glanced back to see Nott pale as he heard the comment. He opened his mouth to say something but Etean opened the changing room door and cut him off.

"You're late!"

The words hit Etean almost before he had entered the room. He looked up to see Blaise staring daggers at him. Before he could answer, Nott appeared behind him, "My fault, Captain," he said quickly to Etean's surprise, "he was waiting for me while I combed my hair. You know how I like to look my best."

There was a quick burst of laughter from Annabelle, who was sitting off to Etean's left. Blaise silenced her with a glare. "Forget the jokes Theo, and get dressed. BOTH of you," he bellowed and headed for the door, "meet us outside in two minutes."

The last order was hollered in the door from outside. The rest of the team filed out. Annabelle was the last to leave, she hung back to grin at Nott before departing. Once they were alone, Nott rounded on Etean.

"Relax before you sprain something." Etean interrupted him before he could speak. He turned away and lifted his team robes down from their hook. It was a real effort to keep from collapsing with laughter at the look on Nott's face. It was hilarious, somewhere between panic rage and desperate fear. "I won't breathe a word, not tonight anyway." Etean smiled. Nott looked at him suspiciously. Etean laughed and grabbed Nott's robes from the wall. He turned and hurled them at him. "Here, get changed. I don't know about you, but I don't want to listen to Blaise screaming at us for being late again."

-

"Da-dum-daDUM, da-DUM-dadum," Hermione hummed to herself idly as she rummaged about inside her trunk. She started sorting through her books when she realised - 'The Wedding March?' she thought. 'What the hell has gotten into me?' She knelt down and rested on the edge of her trunk, shaking her head. 'That blasted dream, why can't I stop fixating on it?' She ran her fingers through her hair and tried to empty her mind. 'It was a dream, Hermione, nothing else. It doesn't matter. None of them do.' She kept repeating it over and over in a stubborn attempt to make herself believe it. It didn't really work. She stood up and snarled in frustration as she tugged her tie loose and tossed into her trunk as hard as she could. Her eyes settled on it as it landed on a pile of blue cloth. The robes Malfoy had given her! Her insides formed into an icy lump. Malfoy…no, Draco…was in so much pain. She couldn't even begin to comprehend the depth of it and she didn't want to. Thinking about his situation made her feel even worse than she already did. 'But,' she laughed quietly to herself, 'At least its proof that I can feel worse.' The humour faded nearly as fast as it had come. When she thought about him in that room all alone, Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He hadn't deserved what had happened to him. Nobody deserved that. She pitied him, she really did. Then she frowned as she remembered his reaction to her pity, his anger – he had hated it.

She supposed she didn't blame him. Were she – god forbid – in his position, she wouldn't want anybody's pity either. Seeing that kind of pity in people's eyes would only serve to make her fixate on the very thing that had caused her pain. She wouldn't want that and neither did he. "I don't need your pity," he had said. Maybe he was right; maybe he didn't need her pity. So what did he need? What could she do to help him? She couldn't pity him, but was there anything she _could_ do? Try as she might, she couldn't think of anything. In the end she sighed, was it even her place to try? Probably not, was the best answer she could come up with. Thinking about it, why would he accept help from her of all people? For most of the time they had known each other, they had shared nothing other than mutual loathing. Until this year! She swore to herself under her breath. For some unknown reason that she couldn't comprehend, things had started to change between them. They had stopped being enemies and started on the road to being…well, she wasn't sure what they were becoming. But then, even before she had really realised what was going on she had betrayed him and reset the board – back to square one! She sighed and shook her head. Thoughts of that night still made her angry at herself. Could Draco ever forgive her for what she had done? Hell, how could she expect him to forgive her when she couldn't even begin to forgive herself?

BAM!

Hermione jumped, coming out of her reverie when the bedroom door slammed. She looked up to see Lavender leaning out of breath against the door, looking very flushed.

"I…am…going to…kill that boy," she stammered between rasping breaths.

"Which boy?" said Hermione.

"Finnegan!" was the not too surprising answer. Lavender shook her head and crossed to her bed. "He's just spent the last five minutes trying to force me to eat a sweet."

Hermione frowned, trying to switch her brain into communication mode. "So what?" she said. "You don't like sweets all of a sudden?"

"Sweets I like," said Lavender, "But not these ones. He got them from Ron."

"So?"

"So…Ron got them from Fred and George."

"Oh," Hermione said, catching on. "Now I get it."

"I heard the boys whispering about them earlier," Lavender continued. "They smuggled them in this morning." She shook her head. "I have no idea what they do, but I do not want to find out."

"Good plan," said Hermione, smiling. Whatever they were, if the twins invented them, they were not to be touched. Not if you valued your skin that is.

Lavender nodded. "Just be careful what you eat. They're trying to sneak them to everyone. Thus far they haven't been able to find anyone stupid enough to try one, but…"

"But they won't give up until they do. Thanks for the warning."

Lavender kicked open her trunk and started to rummage. "You're welcome," she said as she straightened up holding a large textbook. "Right," she said as she tucked it beneath her arm, "study time!"

Hermione jumped to her feet. "Hold on," she exclaimed. "You…studying? When we don't have an exam or an assignment to do?"

Lavender turned to look at her. "You are not the only one who can study you know?" she said, sounding offended.

"I know, and…I'm sorry. It039;s just that you surprised me is all. In five years I have never seen you volunteer to study so happily."

Lavender scowled for a moment, then smiled and took a step toward Hermione. "I know," she said conspiratorially, "and so does Seamus. I'm really only doing it to annoy him. We'll see how he likes it when I prefer to study rather than…" she paused awkwardly, "spend time with him," she finished, blushing slightly. "You coming down?" she gestured to the door.

Hermione thought about it, the company of the Gryffindors might be a bit much to take right now. Still, her mind would only start racing again if she stayed on her own, "Yeah," she nodded as she hefted her bag from the floor beside her bed. "But I have some real studying to do."

The Common Room was fairly crowded. Seamus, Harry, Dean and Ron were gathered around the fireplace, huddled over a brightly coloured box. "Hermione!" said Seamus brightly when he saw her enter, "You want a sweet?" he offered her the box. Hermione could see that it was full to the brim with a multitude of sweets and toffees. There was absolutely nothing unusual about them to look at. If Lavender hadn't warned her she might have taken one, but as it was..

"No thank you, Seamus," she replied as innocently as she could. "I'm not hungry."

"Aww, go on," he pleaded as she walked past him across the room. "They're really nice."

"Save it Finnegan," Lavender growled at him. "I've already warned her about you and those sweets."

Lavender scowled at him and the others then proceeded to plonk herself down on the end of the couch beside them. She curled her legs up underneath her, set her book on the edge of the couch and started to read. Hermione crossed to the corner where Ginny was sitting at a table by herself reading. There was room enough for two at the table so she pulled out the other chair and sat down.

"You don't mind sharing, do you?" she asked Ginny quietly. The only answer she got was a small shake of her head. Hermione settled down and opened her transfiguration text. She glanced back to the fireplace and watched with a faint smile as Lavender pointedly ignored Seamus' attempts to distract her. Lavender was managing to keep a straight face, though Hermione was at a loss to know how. She smiled. 'Those two,' she thought to herself. 'How do they put up with each other? They're always arguing yet seem to never tire of each other.' She suppressed a shrug. 'It must be love.'

The Portrait Hole swung open and Colin Creevey entered the room. The boys were quick to select him as a new target. "Colin!" exclaimed Dean with a huge grin on his face. "Over here mate." Dean beckoned Colin over. Hermione saw him reach out to take the green sweet he was offered.

"Don't… Colin," she cried, but was too late. The sweet disappeared into Colin's mouth. He turned to her as he started to chew with a confused expression on his face.

"Mhwath?" he asked through toffee cemented teeth. The rest of the Common Room fell silent, waiting to see what was going to happen. Hermione shared their anticipation, mixed with a slight sense of dread. Colin blushed as he looked around, becoming aware that he was the centre of attention. He swallowed the sweet. The tension mounted as everyone waited for the reaction. "What did I do? Hic!" Colin hiccoughed, making everyone jump.

Dean took a step back from him, "Wait for it…" he said in a high pitched squeal.

"Wait for wh…HIC," a second, louder hiccough interrupted Colin as he tried to figure out what was going on. A moment later, "HIC!" he went again. A tiny green bubble escaped from his mouth. Everyone focused on the bubble as it hovered in the air. It bobbed up and down for a moment before it popped.

"GINNY IS REALLY CUTE!" Colin's voice boomed around the room, nearly deafening Hermione. Colin clapped his hands over his mouth in embarrassment. Shock kept the room silent for the moment. Hermione's eyes moved from Colin to Ginny who was blushing bright red and staring at Colin in disbelief. The silence hung in the air for several seconds. Hermione looked back to Colin. Behind his hands, she could see the fear and embarrassment in his eyes. He trembled and lowered his hands to try and explain but as soon as his mouth opened…Hic…Hic, HIC! Three more bubbles shot out of his mouth. Colin made a mad swipe to try and bat them from the air but missed. They all popped at almost the same moment.

POP!

"SHE'S REALLY SEXY!"

POP!

"I LIKE THE WAY HER BUM WOBBLES WHEN SHE WALKS!"

POP!

"I WONDER IF SHE'D LET ME KISS HER!"

That was it, the whole Common Room exploded in laughter. Colin slapped his hands over his mouth again and ran out of the Portrait Hole in mad embarrassment.

"HIC!"

Pop!

"I REALLY WANT TO KISS HER!"

The laughter echoed around the room as the Gryffindors rolled about on the floor in hysterics.

"I told you," yelped Ron when he caught his breath, "I told you they'd work."

"Wha…What did you call them?" Seamus managed to say while fighting a cramp in his side.

"Well…" Ron looked at the box. "What did you give him?"

"I think…" Dean answered. "It was a green one." Ron rummaged about in his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. He wiped his eyes and consulted it.

"Green…green…" he said. "Oh here. HA!" he laughed. "Truth Toffees – Suck em and they suck the truth right out of you!" He grinned as he read out the Weasley twin's by-line, prompting another round of laughter.

Harry turned to Ginny. "Looks like you've got an admirer, Gin," he said between laughs.

"Colin and Ginny sitting in a tree," a couple of third year girls started to sing, "K I S S I N G!" They stopped, overcome with laughter.

"Colin and Ginny?" laughed Dean. "Nah, couldn't happen. I mean, he'd probably trip over his own tongue every time he tried to talk to her. Let alone…" the giggles overtook him again. "Let alone anything else."

Ginny, for her part, didn't appear to think that the situation was very funny. "Oh grow up guys," she scowled as she turned her back. "As if."

Hermione didn't find it very funny, either. Colin was a nice guy, if a little easily led. It wasn't fair of them to make fun of him like that. She was about to scold them for it but stopped herself, there was no point. They hadn't ever listened to her before, so she didn't think they would now. She shook her head and turned back to her book, trying to ignore the continuing sounds of laughter as the Gryffindors relived the moment over and over. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ginny shake her head and mumble under her breath. "Stupid immature idiots," she grumbled.

Hermione reached out and laid a hand on Ginny's arm. "Don't listen to them," she said.

Ginny looked up at her. "I'm not listening to them," she snapped, "I mean as if me and Colin…"

Hermione smiled in an attempt to cheer her up. "It was just a joke."

"I'm not interested in Colin alright?" said Ginny forcefully.

"Ok ok," said Hermione, "I didn't say you were."

Ginny turned back to her book and started to flip the pages rather forcefully. Her blush had faded but Hermione could tell that she was still really embarrassed by the incident. It was only her pride that stopped her from running out of the room as Colin had.

"Em, what are you reading?" Hermione asked, trying to change the subject.

"A book," said Ginny in a terse tone, belying her emotional state, "_Etean_ gave it to me to read."

She emphasised the name, Etean! The sound of it derailed Hermione. The tingling sensation in the back of her neck returned along with the strange growling in her ears. 'Get a grip Granger!' She pushed the thoughts aside and returned her attention to the book. She didn't recognise it. It was small and looked handwritten. All the pages were split down the middle. The inside column was in English, though it was too small for her to read clearly at this distance. The outside column was covered in strange, twisted, interlocking symbols and figures that she had never seen before. "What is it about?" she asked.

Ginny shrugged. "The Valkar," she said simply.

"What is a Valkar?" said Hermione.

"It's not a 'what'," replied Ginny, "it, or rather they were a 'who'. A whole race of whos, actually."

"Huh?"

Ginny sighed. "According to Etean, the Valkar were a race of quasi-mythical beings that lived on Earth a couple of thousand years ago. This book is kind of a summary of their lives. Who they were, what they did and all that."

Hermione had never heard of the Valkar. It was rare that she came across a topic that was completely new to her and she was intrigued. She shuffled her chair closer to Ginny to get a better look at the book. "And what were they like? What did they do?"

Ginny frowned before she answered. "I don't know," she said quietly. "To be honest, I can't really follow this stuff." She pointed at the book. "It's all full of really big words and complicated explanations." She moved the book around the table so Hermione could see it better. "Could you em…help me figure it out?"

Hermione scanned the open page. The foreign symbols were as much of a mystery as they had seemed from the side view. The English however, was another matter. She scanned the paragraphs, lots of wherefores and therebys. But it didn't look insurmountable. "Maybe, why are you studying it?" she asked Ginny.

"Don't know" Ginny shrugged. "Etean and I were just talking about them one day. He studied them for years with his grandfather. He knows all about them and he made them sound kind of interesting. I just…wanted to know more about them that's all. This is supposed to be the best place to start – Sort of a simple overview kind of thing." She shook her head. "But if this is simple, I don't want to know what passes for complicated."

Hermione turned the pages slowly, scanning the general content. It certainly looked like an interesting subject, a bit of a diversion for her. "Alright," she said, looking up to see Ginny beaming at her. "I'll have a read of it for you."

"Thanks Mione," said Ginny, getting a scowl for her trouble. "Ooops, sorry. But really, thank you. I want to figure this out so I'll be able to really impress him."

Hermione frowned. 'Him?' she thought and instantly regretted it. There could only be one 'him'.

"You and Etean…" she said, "you're getting on well?"

Ginny laughed. "I suppose we are." She closed her eyes and giggled under her breath at some private memory. Hermione felt overcome by curiosity, she had to know what it was about him that was creating this reaction in her head.

"What's he like?" she asked, "I mean, really."

Ginny paused for a moment. "He's…" she shrugged, "he's Etean," she said simply as if that somehow answered the question. "I've never met anyone like him before. He's smart, funny, sweet and," she giggled, "a little bit crazy."

"Crazy?" Hermione asked, leaning forward on her elbows. "How do you mean?"

"Just some of the things he says," She smiled, "and the way he says them. He makes me laugh." Hermione was starting to get uncomfortable now; the growling in her head was starting to annoy her. She turned her attention to the book, hoping that Ginny would get the message. She didn't. "But you know what I really like about him?" she asked, bringing her head closer to Hermione and lowering her voice to a whisper.

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said.

"He listens," said Ginny. "I mean he really listens to what I have to say. Not like the way some boys pretend to listen to while paying no attention. Etean understands me, he…"

"Ginny," Hermione interrupted, trying to change the subject. She was still struggling for something to change it to when a hand shot between them rapidly and snatched up the book.

"What are you two giggling about?" said Ron as he stepped back and scanned the stolen book. "What the hell is this?" he asked.

"Give it back Ron," Ginny hissed, trying to stand up.

Ron put his free hand on her shoulder and held her down. "What is it?" he repeated.

Ginny struggled to free herself from his grasp. "I said give it back!" her voice was rising to a shout.

"No," Ron laughed, holding the book just out of her reach, "Tell me what it is," he demanded.

"It's a book," said Hermione coldly, feeling her anger rise at his childish behaviour. "Even you should be able to figure that out," she spat at him.

Ron froze in surprise. He stared blankly at Hermione for several seconds. "A book?" he asked when he remembered his voice.

"Yes," said Ginny, freeing herself from his grasp and standing up. She made to grab the book but Ron turned his back to her, keeping it from her grasp. "It's a book you idiot," she snarled as she tried in vain to get round him to the book. "Etean loaned it to me. Give it back before you damage it."

"Etean gave it to you?" said Ron sarcastically. He shoved Ginny back and turned round, holding the book close to his chest. "Well in that case I had better take extra care of it hadn't I? It must be valuable." He stroked the book like it was some sort of treasure.

"I'm warning you Ron." There was real anger in Ginny's voice as she spoke now. "Give it here or else…"

"Or else what?" he said. "What are you going to do? I mean," he laughed, "I'm only looking at it for Merlin's….OUCH!" he yelped suddenly and dropped the book to the floor. He hopped back, shaking his fingers and hissing in anger.

"Ron!" Ginny shrieked. "You dropped it." She stepped forward and froze. Hermione looked at the book where it was lying on the carpet. The cover – before, nothing other than plain black leather – was now glowing with weird, bright silver light.

"The fucking thing burned me!" hollered Ron, still shaking his hand. Ginny knelt down and reached out. Her hand paused inches from the book, frozen in fright. The light from the cover burned brighter for a second then faded. For a moment, just before it disappeared completely, Hermione saw an odd image form on the leather. A curved, jagged beak and a large silver eye stared out at her for an instant and then it was gone. Ginny reached out to the book.

"Careful," Hermione warned.

Ginny ignored her and reached out to tap the book. She didn't yelp or scream, the book made no reaction. Ginny reached out again and took the book up. She knelt there cradling it in her arms like a baby.

"Erm," Dean's voice shattered the tense silence. "What the hell just happened?"

"What happened?" barked Ron. "That bastarding book burned me, that's what happened. Etean must have enchanted it or something – Hexed it to attack people at random, or worse." He stood up straight and took out his wand. "Put it down Ginny," he said, taking aim at the book.

Ginny looked up and saw his wand. "What?" she yelped, then she realised what he was going to do. "No!" she screamed and turned round, putting her body between the book and Ron, "don't you dare."

"Ginny, it's dangerous," Ron said. "I mean it could take someone's arm off or something."

"It is not dangerous, Ron," said Ginny.

"It nearly burned my fingers off, Ginny. Now put it down and step aside before it hurts you."

"It won't hurt me, Ron," said Ginny stubbornly, moving further away from him. "I've had it for over a week now and it hasn't hurt me at all."

"Just because it hasn't, it doesn't mean it won't," said Ron, taking a step toward her, looking for a clear shot at the book. "You should listen to me. Remember what happened the last time you started playing around with an enchanted book?"

Ginny paled at that. Hermione couldn't believe her ears. She knew that Ron was referring to the time almost four years ago when Lucius Malfoy had given Ginny a diary that had once belonged to You Know Who. Ginny had nearly died under its influence and was understandably self conscious about it. It was not an easy subject to discuss around her and, consequently, none of them ever spoke about it. Hermione couldn't believe that Ron would bring it up for any reason, and certainly not in front of the other Gryffindors, many of whom didn't even know about the diary.

"Ron!" she and Harry exclaimed at the same moment. They locked eyes for a moment in surprise before Hermione spoke again.

"How could you?" she asked. She stepped round the table, putting herself between Ron and Ginny.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Stay out of this, will you, Hermione. This is between me and Ginny."

"Oh give up Ron," she snapped, batting his wand hand away angrily and turning round. "Ginny?" she said quietly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" Ginny didn't answer; she shook Hermione's hand off and ran out of the room.

"Ginny, wait," Harry called after her as she disappeared up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. "Well done, man," he said, turning to Ron. "I mean, you handled that just beautifully," he added sarcastically.

"Me?" said Ron in apparent disbelief. "I'm not the one that was messing around with a dangerous book, mate."

Hermione ground her teeth. She just was not able to fathom how Ron could be so fucking stupid. "For FUCK'S sake, Ron," she yelled, advancing on him, "Doesn't it ever occur to you that just because you don't understand something, it doesn't necessarily follow that it's automatically dangerous?"

"It fucking burned me," he said indignantly.

"I know it did, which proves only one thing: That it's clearly a very intelligent book."

Ron reeled. "What?" he said.

"Had you thought about it, even for a second, it might have occurred to you that the book might just have an anti-theft charm on it. One designed to stop people stealing it maybe?"

"I wasn't stealing it," he said sulkily.

"You took it from her and wouldn't give it back." She laughed. "How is that not stealing?"

Hermione didn't wait for an answer, she turned and grabbed her book from the table and marched over to the staircase without as much as a backward glance. "Where are you going?" asked Ron.

"To find Ginny," she replied without turning. "You see, I actually care about her."

If Ron answered, she didn't pay attention. She climbed the stairs and stopped outside the Fifth Year dorm. "Ginny?" she said quietly as she knocked at the door. "Are you in there?" There was no reply, but she knew that Ginny was indeed in there. Where else would she go? Hermione pushed the door opened and entered. Four four-poster beds stood inside, one for each of the Fifth Year Gryffindors. Though which was which, she hadn't a clue. The curtains on each of them were drawn back, hiding the beds themselves. Was Ginny in here? Hermione stood still, listening for a sound, some clue of her location. Nothing…nothing…SNIFF!

Hermione rounded on the source of the noise and crossed to the bed. She drew back the curtain and looked down. Ginny was sitting cross-legged on the bed, cradling the book in her lap, crying. Her fingers were running all over the leather as she continued to sniff and snuffle. Hermione sat beside her.

"Is it OK?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," Ginny replied. "Not a mark on it." Her head snapped up. "It isn't dangerous. He wouldn't have given it to me if it was…he wouldn't." She shuddered. Hermione put an arm round her,

"It's never done that before?" she asked. "The glowing?"

"No." Ginny shook her head. "It's never done anything like that before. It's just a book that doesn't like to be messed with, that's all."

"OK then, so we don't mess with it. I doubt Ron will again, that's for sure."

"Serves him right, the little git," said Ginny as she wiped her eyes.

Hermione reached out to take the book. "May I?" she said hesitantly, hoping it wouldn't repeat its earlier performance. Ginny handed her the book. The leather felt pretty normal to the touch as she held it. Hermione turned it over in her hands and looked at it. Nothing, not a sign of any enchantment showed itself.

"Anything?" Ginny asked nervously.

"Not a thing," Hermione replied. "Just a book."

"Just a book," Ginny repeated, "Did you em…see that picture on the cover, just before the light faded?" she asked.

Hermione ran her fingers over the leather again and nodded. "What was it?"

"I think," said Ginny frowning slightly, "it was Etean's family crest. It looked like the one on his ring anyway."

"Oh," Hermione said. "So Etean did enchant it then?"

"I guess he did," said Ginny, "but it wasn't meant to hurt anyone," she said desperately. "It was just…oh I don't know."

"I think I do," Hermione smiled. "A pretty effective way to keep it from being nicked, don't you think?"

Ginny smiled in relief. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

"So em," Hermione said. "Do you still want me to read this for you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ginny answered. "That's if you still want to. If you aren't afraid it'll take your hand off or anything."

Hermione laughed and stood up. "I'll risk it," she said. "Are you coming back down?"

"No." Ginny shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere near him again tonight. Who knows what I'm liable to do? Besides, I'm supposed to meet Etean later, after he's finished practicing."

Hermione caught a scolding remark on the tip of her tongue. Ginny knew full well that sneaking out of the dorm late at night was against the rules. As a prefect, Hermione should stop her, but something in her tone stopped her. It sounded like Ginny was looking forward to meeting Etean and despite Hermione's doubts about him, she wanted to see Ginny happy. "Right," she said as she turned to leave, "I guess I'll see you later."

"Later," Ginny said. Hermione left the bedroom and stopped. The voices of the people in the Common Room drifted up the stairs as clear as a bell. By the sounds of it, they had managed to get some other poor soul to try one of the Weasley twins' sweets. She really didn't want to listen to Ron and the others in the Common Room. She was about to head up to her room when she remembered the reason she hadn't stayed there in the first place. 'Just grin and bear it, Granger,' she thought to herself as she headed down to the Common Room.


	38. The Dragons Blade

"Weasley," snapped Professor Snape, "What are you doing?"

Weasley looked up in surprise at the Professor. "I'm just setting up my stuff, Professor," he answered.

"No you're not, not there." said Snape, shaking his finger. "I don't want any mischief from you or Potter." Snape's eyes darted around the room for a moment. "Swap with Theodore," he barked, jabbing a bony finger at Nott.

Etean looked sideways at Nott. He didn't imagine that having to spend the class sitting beside Potter would please him much and it didn't. Etean clearly heard him mutter several nasty words under his breath as he hefted his cauldron and made his way between the tables to Potter's table. For his part, Weasley seemed no happier about the swap. He muttered something which Etean only half caught as he bundled his ingredients into his cauldron and picked it up.

"That's enough of that language, Weasley!" Snape bellowed, though Etean was sure that the Professor hadn't actually heard what Weasley had said any better than he had. "Five points from Gryffindor," Snape snarled as he turned round to the board. The Gryffindor side of the classroom sighed while the Slytherins let out a not too well concealed hiss of joy which Snape chose to ignore.

THUNK! Weasley set his cauldron down hard beside the worktable and began arranging his ingredients, still muttering his barely audible grievances. Etean smiled and shook his head, turning his attention to the board. Snape had written the instructions that they were to follow in order to brew the potion known as Pax Cogitus. Etean scanned the board quickly and memorised the steps.

'Step 1:' he mused to himself in an attempt to ignore the tedious nature of the procedure. 'Shred three good sized Banton leaves.' He picked up his knife, selected a leaf from the jar on the table and started to cut. He forced himself to suppress a sigh. There were times when playing the student really sucked. Etean no more needed to know how to brew the Pax Cogitus potion than he needed flying lessons, but he had to play along nonetheless. 'Still,' he thought as he glanced at Weasley beside him, 'We might have some fun yet.'

Professor Snape started to walk amongst the students, lecturing as he went. "The Pax Cogitus, or Peace of Mind, potion is as difficult to prepare as it is powerful, though its use is somewhat rare nowadays." Snape's voice droned as he stalked around the class, observing people's progress. "Its origins date back to the sixteenth century when it was chiefly used as a truth serum." He scowled at something. "Finer Finnegan!" He stopped to criticise Seamus Finnegan who jumped at being addressed and dropped his knife. "You must shred the Banton very finely indeed." Snape turned on a heel and continued his lecture. "The principal effect of this potion is to relax the mind of the drinker and slow all of their conscious thoughts to a standstill, thereby rendering them unable to concentrate enough to lie. Now," he turned at the head of the room and washed his gaze across the class, "who here can tell me why it is no longer used for this purpose?"

The class was silent; nobody seemed willing to venture an answer. On instinct, Etean rolled his eyes slightly to the right, bringing Granger into his periphery. He had expected her to be hopping on the edge of her seat with her hand up in a desperate attempt to answer, but she wasn't. Etean was surprised to see her sitting still and quiet. He turned to get a better look at her. She was staring straight ahead into space, looking for all the world as if she hadn't even heard the question. Etean turned back to the Professor as Snape's roving eyes settled on Granger. For a moment, he seemed slightly disappointed that she wasn't trying to answer. Etean recalled how Snape seemed to take immense delight in asking questions of the class and then blatantly ignoring Granger's attempts to answer and display the extent of her knowledge. He smirked slightly as he remembered how much Snape's treatment had annoyed her. The Professor scowled, "Anyone?" he asked.

Etean scanned the room again – still no hand in the air. Nobody it seemed knew the answer. 'Do these people ever do their schoolwork?' he asked himself and shook his head as he raised his hand. "Sir!" he said.

"Ah, Mr. Etean." Snape seemed somewhat pleased that a Slytherin was willing to answer. "You know the answer?"

Etean nodded. "Actually, there are a couple of reasons why." He cleared his throat as everyone turned to look at him. "The first reason was its effectiveness. It was never a guaranteed method of extracting the truth. While it may work on a person one day, it may very well not work on them the next day, or ever again. Its effectiveness depends on the current mental condition of the drinker. For example, if someone were ill or overtired, then the odds were that it would work quite well. Whereas if they are in full health and are making an effort to resist, it proved all but useless nine times out of ten. Also, it has a number of harmful side-effects. It has been known to cause permanent memory loss in a small percentage of people and has even been known to cause irreparable neural damage to some. I have read about extreme cases where it even caused paralysis or even…death." Snape smiled slightly as Etean continued. "The only reason it was so popular for so long was that there was simply no better alternative available. When Veritaserum was invented by Pierre Mendez in 865…1896 by the muggle calendar," he added on seeing the strange looks from several students, "it pretty much made the Pax potion redundant, though it is still sometimes used as a sedative."

"Excellent." Snape clapped his hands together in satisfaction. "I am glad to see that someone has come to class prepared. Well done Mr. Etean, five points to Slytherin."

The Slytherins let out another, louder sound of joy. "Five points to Slytherin!" whined Weasley in a mocking tone, "Shithead," he finished.

Etean honestly wasn't sure if Weasley was insulting him or Snape. In either case it didn't matter, the Professor heard him. "And five points from Gryffindor," said Snape. "For your unsporting attitude Weasley, and ten more for your foul language."

Etean forced himself to hide a smile of enjoyment as he watched Weasley's ears glow pink with anger. He somehow managed to keep the majority of his rage from his face as he looked at Snape, but it was clear that he was fuming. Etean returned his attention to his preparations. He waited until Snape was occupied on the other side of the room before he turned to Weasley, "Well done," he said quietly. "Keep this up and they'll be awarding us the House Cup before the end of the day."

Weasley glared sideways at him. "Shut it, you," he hissed in a barely audible voice, "I don't want to hear it."

'You don't want to hear it eh?' Etean thought to himself as he finished shredding his Banton, 'tough!' He dropped his knife and reached out for his wand to fill the cauldron, deliberately taking up Weasley's instead.

"Hey!" Weasley shouted when he saw what he was doing. "Put that down."

"Weasley!" Snape roared, turning round so fast he seemed to blur for a moment. "I will not have that kind of disruptive outburst in my class." He started to march forcefully between the desks towards Weasley. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, and if I hear another word from you, it will be fifty."

"But Sir," said Weasley hotly, "Etean is trying to steal my wand!"

Snape's eyes darted to Etean. He looked down at his hands and put on a surprised expression. "Oops," he said as he dropped the wand. "Wrong wand." Etean picked up his own wand from the table and looked up at Snape. "It was an honest mistake, Professor," he said innocently.

"Honest mistake my foot!" said Weasley. "You did it on purpose."

Etean didn't rise to the bait. Instead he just looked at the Professor and shrugged. "Why would I do that? I just wasn't paying attention to what wand I was picking up, that's all."

Snape nodded and turned back to Weasley. "Right, well be more careful in future," he said, "Mr. Weasley, do you feel you are capable of continuing this class without further disruption?"

Weasley fumed. Etean was forced to retreat behind his mask to stop himself from smiling as he watched him out of the corner of his eye. In the end he managed to nod. "Yes Sir," he said curtly.

Snape nodded again and turned round, noticing that the whole class was staring. "Back to work, the lot of you," he stalked away, "and the next person that disturbs my class will be doing detention until hell freezes over."

Etean let his mask on, internally laughing his head off. Weasley wasn't hiding his rage very well. He picked up his knife and started to chop his Banton leaves.

THUNK! THUNK!

The knife pounded into the chopping board over and over, harder each time. Etean felt sure that if he continued like that, that he would chop his finger off before long. Finally he allowed himself to smile as he added the last shred of Banton to the water and brought it to the boil, 'If this weren't so damned easy it'd be fun,' he thought. 'Let's see if we can get him a detention before the end of class!'

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bell rang at the end of class. The sound hit Hermione like a sledgehammer. She jumped and looked around, momentarily confused about where she was.

"Everyone collect a sample of their potion and bring it forward to be graded," Professor Snape said over the clamour.

Hermione panicked. She had to collect a sample of her potion? She looked in terror at her cauldron, expecting to see a complete mess. To her surprise the potion was fine. A soft golden mist was drifting off the gently bubbling surface. 'Did I do that?' she asked herself as she dipped her sample jar into the warm potion. Her mind rewound the last two hours, trying to remember brewing the potion. 'I know I added the Banton leaves and I remember crushing the kneazle tooth but…did I…' Confused, she stood up. She must have done the rest, how else could the potion be ready? She made her way to the top of the room and handed her potion to Professor Snape then returned to her desk to pack her things. All the while, her mind was running in circles, what had she been doing that so distracted her that she had no memory of the class?

The question vanished as soon as she opened her bag to stow her textbook. She saw the bundle of blue cloth and her other problem hit her: Draco. Before she could stop herself she started to think about what she was going to say to him when she saw him and got stuck. 'What the hell am I going to say to him?' she asked herself. She had no idea, that was the honest answer. Maybe she shouldn't go… 'NO!' she had made up her mind and that was it. 'But,' she thought, 'I had better go now before I think up some reason not to.' Her mind was made up. Whether he wanted her to or not, whether she could or not, she was going to help him. She had to at least try to before she really did go nuts worrying about….everything.

Hermione shut the flap of her bag, not bothering to do up the straps as her mind wandered. She replayed the last conversation with Draco for the thousandth time, bringing back the dull ache of pity to her stomach. He didn't want her pity but he deserved it. Thinking about him hurt but at least it was a way to stop her from dwelling on her own problems. She was almost glad to have him as a distraction for her mind. 'Fuck,' she scolded herself. 'That was a horrible thought to have.'

She reached the door of the classroom and found her path blocked by Ron. He wasn't looking at her, but was talking to Harry and Seamus,

"…stupid, stuck up, arrogant git!" he spat, getting a round of nods from the others. "He cost us forty-five house points and got me a detention, the bastard."

"Did he really switch your ingredients?" asked Seamus.

"He must have," answered Ron. "How else could it have happened? Not that Snape believed me."

"He did have a point, Ron," Harry added carefully. "You didn't actually see Etean do it did you?"

"What does that prove? I _know_ I put the kneazle tooth powder in that pestle. I hadn't even opened the Moon Flower pollen yet."

"Still," said Harry pensively, "I don't see how he could have switched the jars, not when they were right in front of you like that."

"Nobody else saw him either," said Seamus. "You'd think that someone would have."

"Well, even if any of the Slytherins saw him, they wouldn't say, would they?" said Ron angrily.

Hermione had no idea what they were talking about. She made to move past them when Harry stopped her. "Hermione," he said. "Did you see Etean mess with Ron's stuff?"

She frowned at him. "What?"

"You must have seen him," said Ron, turning to face her. "You were sitting right behind him."

"What are you talking about?" said Hermione.

Ron frowned, "Etean swapped my ingredients on me," he said, "he made me add the pollen too early and the whole thing evaporated. Snape gave me a detention for causing a 'ruckus'." He spat the last word.

"Don't you remember?" asked Harry, frowning.

Hermione shrugged. "No," she said, trying to sound unconcerned, "I was paying too much attention to my own potion to notice, I suppose."

"You didn't even notice?" asked Ron incredulously. "How could you not notice? Snape tore strips off me for Merlin's sake."

"Well sorry," grumbled Hermione. "If I don't spend all my time watching you get into trouble, Ronald."

She burst past him and stormed off down the corridor. Her mind buzzed. 'Ron got into trouble less than five feet from me and I didn't notice?' she asked herself. 'What the hell was I doing?' As she made her way through the end of day throng, Hermione was still struggling to remember any concrete details about the preceding class. It was nothing but a vague haze. 'Focus on an event, something concrete,' she willed herself to remember. 'Snape berating Ron…you must remember that!' She pictured Snape, an unpleasant mental image at the best of times, and tried to remember. 'Concentrate, Hermione, what did he say?'

She threaded her way through the crowd toward the Hospital Wing, dodging left and right to avoid the herd of students that seemed to be paying no attention to where they were going. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shift the fog in her head. Before she knew it she was back at the dead end corridor, the hidden entrance to Draco's room. A lump came to her throat as she stared at the wall, her eyes following a small crack in the plaster. What would she say to him? What would he say to her?

'This is a mistake,' she decided. She turned on her heel but only made it a half a step before she stopped. She stood there staring at the empty corridor and listening to the sound of her heart in her ears. The sound nearly deafened her before she spun back to face the wall, "Honey Bee!" she said quickly before she could change her mind again. There was the tiniest sound of stone grinding against stone as the wall swung inward to reveal the small staircase. The lump in her throat grew larger and she got the urge to turn back again. Hermione ground her teeth and stepped forward. The wall started to close again as she set foot on the bottom step. She turned to watch it swing closed, leaving her in the dark. Her pulse pounded in her ears so loud she was sure it was echoing off the walls of the narrow staircase. She made her way slowly up the staircase and gently knocked on the door.

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Draco sat on the floor with his back to the wall, staring at his hand. The sight of the metal filaments glinting in the late afternoon sunlight turned his stomach. He bit down hard, crushing his teeth together and shaking with the effort of concentration as he slowly clenched and unclenched his fingers.

"One hundred and ninety six…eh…one hundred and ninety seven…one hundred and ninety eight…one hu….one hundred and ninety nine….two hundred!" He let out an exhausted sigh and let his head fall back onto the stone. His breath came in ragged, harsh gasps. The effort to concentrate and exercise his hand like that absolutely exhausted him. When he caught his breath he looked down at his hand and laughed. Two hundred reps and he was beaten? Damn! Why did life have to be so blasted hard? How could even a simple exercise like that take all his strength? He shook his head and dismissed the question as he stood up. He didn't need to start on that road again, he was depressed enough as it was. He turned to look out of the window as he reached inside his cloak with his good hand, searching for his gloves. Draco sighed, covering the hand was still necessary, even here. He never knew when Dumbledore was going to just stroll in unannounced. Not that he really minded. Draco could barely stand to think about his hand anymore, much less look at it.

Draco was surprised when his fingers closed on something a lot harder than leather within the folds of cloth. He grasped the object and drew it out. He looked down to see an elegant silver dagger, an object he had never seen before. It was beautiful and terrible at the same time. The blade was six inches from tip to guard and carved into an intricate pattern. Draco had to turn it sideways to make out the shape of a dragon in flight. Its head with its teeth bared was etched into the steel of the blade just below the tip, ready to strike with the blade. Draco's eyes followed the pattern of the beast down the blade and into the dark wood of the handle. It was a powerful image, fitting the elegant weapon. Elegant, but dangerous, the blade looked razor sharp in the pale sunlight. Draco was confused. He focused his mind and reached out to his cloak,

'Why did you give me this?' he asked it. A stream of tiny emotions flooded back in response – fear, sorrow, grief and then anger and rage, accompanied by a sense of determination. The feelings were faint, almost transparent, if that word can be used to describe a feeling, yet they still touched Draco in a way that he couldn't quite understand. He closed his eyes as an image drifted into his mind and solidified. A hand, his bare right hand, clenched tight holding the dagger. The image changed and was replaced by one of him holding the weapon aloft, brandishing it defiantly at an unseen foe. The sense of determination grew stronger. He heard a voice, well almost a voice in his head,

'_Never give up, never give up,_' it repeated over and over. He smiled and opened his eyes.

'I get it,' he sent to the cloak, 'I'm not beaten yet…we're not beaten yet!' The response was another tiny surge of joy, which despite Draco's best efforts, actually managed to lift his spirits a little. A knife! A point, a blade, a handle…a simple and strangely elegant weapon. He switched it to his right hand and squeezed the handle. It felt awkward holding it while not being able to feel it properly but, he reasoned, that wouldn't stop him from using it now, would it? It didn't take a great deal of skill or imagination to use a knife.

"Pointy end goes into other person. Simple!" he whispered to himself. He laughed quietly as he stabbed the air a few times.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Draco froze, rooted to the spot, when he heard a quiet knock at the door. He spun to look at it and frowned. 'Who the hell is that?' he asked himself as he straightened up, then another question occurred to him. 'Who the hell would knock?' He slipped the dagger into the folds of his cloak and fumbled about for his gloves as he extended his senses to the door, and to the person beyond. There was definitely someone there, but who was it? Dumbledore? He usually just strolled in without a care in the world. Etean? Draco laughed as he found the gloves and started to pull them on. The thought of Etean showing that much common courtesy was positively hilarious. That left only one person. He reached out to touch his visitor's mind gently and felt a surge of uncertainty trickle into his mind from theirs. 'Yep,' he said, 'that's her.'

"Come in Hermione," he said.

The door clicked open and swung inward. Hermione stood in the doorway, looking embarrassed and more than a little confused. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.

Draco's mind raced. 'Oops,' he thought to himself. 'Well done, idiot!' He shrugged. "Lucky guess," he said, turning round to hide his face until he could get himself under control. "Besides," he added. "It's not like I get a lot of visitors. Who else would it be?"

"Oh," she said. "Right…em…How…how are you?" she hissed slightly after she said the question.

Draco turned round to look at her. "How am I?" From the expression on her face, Draco was certain that she realised just how dumb that question had sounded. "I'm fine," he turned away again. "How are you?" he asked in a sarcastic tone.

Hermione sighed. "Tired," was her answer.

The flatness of the tone she used surprised him. "Tired? That's it? You're tired?" She didn't answer. Draco looked at her for a moment. She seemed lost, adrift. She was looking at him, but he got the idea that she wasn't really seeing him at all. Draco jumped when she suddenly shook herself and snapped out of whatever was going on inside her head.

"Sorry," she said, blushing. "What was I saying?" she asked.

"Nothing." Draco shook his head. He stepped toward her, round the corner of the bed, and sat down. "You kinda tuned out there for a second," he said.

"I did?" she asked nervously. She stared at the floor, avoiding his eyes. "Erm…well…like I said," she shrugged, "I'm tired."

'And a hell of a lot more besides,' he thought to himself. 'Something is up in your head Hermione, but what?' He decided it would be best not to push her too hard. "Ok then," he said. "So," he added brightly, surprised at just how cheerful he managed to sound. "What brings you to Chez Draco?" he waved at the walls of the tiny room. "Not lost again I hope?"

"No," she smiled slightly, "I'm not lost, I…" her voice trailed off into silence.

"You what?" he asked, standing up. Hermione looked at him as he approached her. Her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Instead she just stood there, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot. "What's the matter?" he smiled at her. "Cat got your tongue?"

Hermione stepped back a bit and drew herself up to her full height. "No," she said firmly through a fierce blush, "I just…"

"Just what?" he urged gently, stepping forward to close the distance between them again.

"I just," she paused again. Draco could almost see her thoughts flutter and buzz behind those beautiful eyes. Hermione shook her head and seemed to regain control of herself slightly. She reached into her bag. "I just wanted," she said as she pulled out a bundle of blue cloth, Draco recognised the robes he had conjured for her at their last encounter, "I wanted to return these," she said as she held them out to him.

Draco drew back from her, the room seemed to grow suddenly colder. The sight of the robes brought the crushing lump back to his gut. "Keep them," he whispered and turned away from her. "I don't want them."

"Oh," she said quietly, as he walked across the room to the window, "I just thought…"

"I can guess what you thought," he snapped, cutting her off. "But like I said, keep them. Think of them as a present, a gift from me to you," he reached the window and pressed his forehead into the glass, "an apology." He whispered to himself, too quietly for her to hear. Behind him he heard the sound of Hermione dropping the robes onto the bed. He heard footsteps as she walked over to him. He raised a hand to stop her. "Don't," he said, "I know what you're going to say so you can just skip it."

"What was I going to say?"

"That everything will be fine," he turned round to look at her again and sat on the window ledge. "That none of this is my fault. That I'm not doing myself or anyone else any good by staying locked away in this…place. I've heard it before."

"You have?" she asked.

"Yes," Draco nodded. "Dumbledore says it to me every single day, no matter how often I tell him that I don't want to hear it."

"Oh," she bit her lip again before she spoke. "Did you ever think that…maybe he's right?"

Draco ground his teeth and shut his eyes. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe he is," he balled a fist and punched the window ledge. Hermione gasped in fright at the sound. Draco looked up to see her backing away slowly. He took a breath and tried to get his temper under control. "Like I said," he managed to sound slightly calmer than he felt, "I don't want to hear it. Let's just say that I'm better off in here and leave it at that."

"But alone?" she asked, stepping forward again. "Locked away like a prisoner? How are you better off in here?"

Draco stood up and walked past her. He wanted to get away from her without answering her question. He made it two steps past her before his brain caught up and he remembered that he had nowhere to go. He stalled mid-step. "I said I don't want to talk about it, Hermione. What part of that didn't you understand?"

"I understand what you said. But I am just trying to help you."

"Well I didn't ask you to," he spat over his shoulder. "My problems are mine alone!" The comments took on a life of their own as he spoke. They came out far harsher than Draco had really intended, but they were said and couldn't be unsaid. Several moments of silence passed before either of them spoke again. Draco kept his back to her, wishing she would just go away without another word.

She didn't. "You don't want to talk…fine then. I just thought…" She turned and walked round him. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter what I thought, does it?" Hermione reached the door and picked up her bag from where she had dropped it. "I don't know why I came here, I really don't. Stupid Granger!" she berated herself. "Forever going out of your way to help people who don't want…or deserve it. It's not like you don't have enough to worry about at the moment. When will you learn to mind your own business? First Harry, then Ron and now…" she turned on her heel. "See you round Mal…" Draco grimaced involuntarily. Hermione paused on seeing his face, then continued. "I mean Draco…of course your name is Draco, I didn't forget so don't remind me," she shook her hair back over her shoulders, "but like I said, see you around. If you ever work up the courage to leave here that is."

She turned to leave. Draco turned to look at her, he found that he couldn't watch her walk out again. "You don't know what's waiting for me out there," he called after her.

Hermione stopped at the door and sighed. "What is?" She turned back to him. "What is waiting for you that has you trapped in here?"

Draco lowered his head. "Nothing," he said quietly, "I see it my head, the world outside that door. I see a void, a black, empty void where my world once was." He turned and started to wander in circles around the floor. "I haven't got a home anymore Hermione…or a family. This place is all I have left. This…school and the people in it." He shut his eyes and willed the images away. "I see them, too, the people out there. I see myself surrounded by their pity, their sorrowful looks and it disgusts me." He paused and took a shaky breath. "Other than…other than that, there's nothing left for me out there."

Hermione dropped her bag and stepped toward him. "Your life is out there, Draco," said Hermione. "Your friends…people who care about you."

"Friends?" Draco laughed. "People who care about me? Like who? Name one!" He jabbed a finger at the door. "Just one person out there who actually gives a damn about me."

"Well…" she started, then foundered.

"You can't," he spat. "Can you? And do you know why you can't?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "I'll tell you why. You can't name anyone because there isn't anyone for you to name."

"But the Slytherins…"

"Slytherins? Please! They are a bunch of self-centred fools. Not one of them gives a flying fuck about anyone else, not one." He laughed harder than before. "I should know, I'm one of them, aren't I? The Slytherins?" He let out a hollow chuckle and wagged a finger at her. "You really are naïve sometimes. So who does that leave? The staff? At best they tolerate me and at worst…well just forget about the staff. And while we're at it, let's not even bother to mention any of the other students. I think it's safe to say that I have pissed most of them off enough over the years that they hate me too."

"Nobody hates you, Draco." Hermione shook her head. "They…"

"Finish that sentence and I swear by any god that you care to name that I will rip your patronising tongue out of your head where you stand. Of course people hate me and why wouldn't they? That's the way I wanted it."

Hermione frowned. "It is?"

"Of course it is," said Draco, "where have you been for the last five years? I have gone out of my way to be a colossal prick at every available opportunity so that they would hate me."

"But," said Hermione, frowning, "why?"

"Because," Draco let his eyes drift closed, "I had to." He tried to fight it, but her question triggered a memory, a lecture that his father had given him a thousand times.

Lucius' voice filled his ears. 'The only way to ensure that people respect you Draco is to make them fear you. You must make them believe two things: First that you possess or can acquire the kind of power that truly terrifies them. And second that you are capable of using that power. That you are willing to do horrible things to them, the kind of things that they can't imagine anybody doing to anyone. The first part is the more difficult and…is clearly beyond you, but the second is another matter. If you are competent enough in achieving the second part, the lack of the first will never arise. If they are to believe that you are to be feared, then they have to despise you, to believe that you are the kind of person that could do such things without a moment's pause or hesitation…' Draco shook himself and pushed the sound of his father's voice out of his head. He looked over at Hermione.

"I don't understand," she said.

Draco smiled, "I know you don't," he said. "Believe me, you don't want to. Right now my head is a place I wouldn't send my worst enemy."

"Nor is it a place that I particularly want to go, Draco," said Hermione calmly. Her tone somehow managed to take any sting out of the remark.

"What do you want then?" he asked. "Why are you here? You didn't come just to return those." He pointed at the bundle of blue robes on the bed.

Hermione followed his look and shrugged. "Believe it or not, I did," she looked back to him. "At least, that was the only reason I could think of that made sense. I…wanted to help you."

"As you said, but you haven't said…why?"

She shrugged again. "I figured I owed you I guess."

"You owed me? For what?"

"The last time I was here, you…you helped me. I wanted to return the favour and…" she trailed off and avoided his eyes again.

"And?" he asked, closing in on her slowly. "What?"

"And I wanted to apologise."

"Apologise?"

"Yes," she looked up at him. "For when we…I mean for when I helped Harry and Ron…when they…set you up."

"What?" Draco asked, honestly confused. What was she talking about? Then he remembered. "Oh!" was all he could say. His mind replayed the events of that night. It seemed like it had happened years ago, in another lifetime. Draco turned and sat on the edge of the table. "I had forgotten all about that," he said, more to himself than anything else.

He looked up. Hermione was shifting from foot to foot, looking at him nervously. She was waiting for an answer, a reaction one way or the other. She deserved an answer. It had to have taken a lot of courage to come here and say that the way that she had. Draco paused to replay the incident one more time, searching for his emotions amidst all the crap in his mind. Finally, he gave up. "Apology accepted," he said simply. As he said it, he waved his hand as a gesture of dismissal. His elbow collided with the stack of books on the desk beside him, sending them tumbling to the ground. "Shit!" he exclaimed. He dropped to his knees and started to gather them up.

"Here," said Hermione. "Let me help you." She knelt beside him and started grabbing at books and parchment. The situation seemed bizarrely familiar to Draco. It took him a minute to remember why. When he did, he rocked back on his haunches, then rolled onto his backside as a fit of laughter overtook him. Hermione stopped what she was doing and stared at him. "What?" she asked.

"Well," said Draco when he could catch his breath. "It's just you got me thinking, remembering things, and it occurs to me that whenever you and I are alone together lately," he waved a random bit of parchment in her face, "we seem to end up on our knees, surrounded by books that one or other of us has managed to scatter on the floor."

Hermione looked at him blankly for a moment before she sniggered and sat back too. "It does seem that way I suppose." She dropped the book she was holding and sniggered again. "What is this, the third time?"

"Something like that I think," he said, rising himself up onto his knees again. "Maybe someone is trying to tell us something."

"Like what?" she asked.

"I don't know." He smiled. "Maybe that the books are evil, that we shouldn't try to read them." He delighted in the look on her face as he spoke. "Maybe," he decided to push one step further, "they belong on the floor in tatters."

Hermione's face twisted in horror. She scooped up an armful of parchment and clutched it to her chest. "Blasphemy!" she exclaimed, "I think you had better apologise."

Draco laughed harder than he could remember laughing before at the sound of her pretend indignation at his remark. He recovered himself and set his face before placing his hand on his heart and looking her dead in the eye. "I am sorry, Hermione," he said in as level a voice as he could manage.

Hermione shook her head. "I am not the one that needs an apology Draco."

"Huh?" He was confused.

"The books," she hissed, gathering more of them into her arms. "They heard you insult them." Her voice changed to a plea. "Tell them you didn't mean it."

Draco's face went slack with shock. For a moment, just a moment, he actually thought that she might be serious. After the moment, he laughed. "You really are going crazy, do you know that?"

Hermione looked even more shocked. She cradled the bundle of parchment to her breast even tighter. "Shhhh," she cooed to them, "he doesn't mean it. He's being mean!"

Draco shook his head at the babyish sound of her voice. "Fine." He stood up. "You want to talk to them, go right ahead. You can tidy them too while you're at it…ouch!" he yelped as a rather heavy volume bounced off the back of his skull.

"I am not here to tidy up after you," said Hermione sternly. "Now help me clean up your mess."

"Alright, alright," he said, rubbing his head. "Just don't throw any more of them at me." He knelt and started to clear the mess up with her once more, making a point to pick up the heavier books first, no sense in leaving her with any ammunition.

Hermione picked up one crumpled piece of parchment and examined it. "Two scrolls of parchment on the relative difficulties of inter-species transfigurations?" she looked at Draco. "But this essay was due in over a week and a half ago. Professor McGonagall has already marked them and given them back." She sat back. "You didn't even start it?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. "To be honest, I haven't even read that assignment note." He reached down and grabbed another one, an assignment on healing potions set by Snape. It was even older than the one Hermione held. "Or this one," he balled it up and tossed it onto the pile, "or any of those. Schoolwork hasn't exactly been a priority of late."

"Yes but," her jaw dropped. "You mean you haven't done anything, read any lessons, done any assignments since…since you've been here?"

"Nope," he shook his head again, "not one."

"My god!" she exclaimed. "But that's terrible…I mean…you're so far behind…I mean…I…"

She sounded like she was stuck in some sort of loop and she didn't look like she was going to get out of it anytime soon. Draco smiled and laid his left hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Hermione," he said, trying desperately not to laugh. "I don't care, really."

"How can you not care?" Her voice kept getting higher and higher with each word. "I mean…you've been here for weeks…weeks! The work you've missed, the lessons…important lessons. How are you going to catch up?"

"I haven't actually thought about it, to tell you the truth." He shrugged. "I suppose I'll manage somehow. I mean how many 'important' lessons can I have missed?"

"Loads!" she almost screamed. "I mean…Professor McGonagall has been teaching us about large animal transformations…they lead right up to human transformations. Professor Snape has been working on teaching us how catalyst controlled ingredient property interactions can be used to take advantage of recessive properties in certain ingredients. He says it's a necessary skill to master if we are to understand _any_ seventh year level potions. And don't get me started on Arithmancy…Professor Vector has been lecturing us on quantum level energy conversions. You have to watch the extra dimensional variables very carefully at every stage to avoid error."

Draco had been nodding along with her, his smile growing wider all the time. "Is that all?" he asked, barely able to stop himself laughing at the look on her face.

"NO!" she yelled, oblivious to the level of amusement he was finding in her actions. "Professor Flitwick has been exploring locator charms to track down and find things that have been lost even from miles away…and….but…but I mean that's only the beginning. I've just been summarising, the amount of material you've missed is…"

"Ok, ok," Draco said, making a gesture of surrender. "I get it. So I've got a bit of catching up to do."

Hermione jumped to her feet and dumped the piles of parchment she had been gathering onto the table. "A bit?" she exclaimed. "A bit of catching up to do?" She shook her head. "That is an understatement and a half. You're at least three weeks behind…on everything." She started to rummage and sort through the sheets and books on the desk. Draco stood up and turned to watch her. Gradually, amidst the chaos on the table, several discernable piles started to emerge. Draco tried to follow her actions. Several times he thought that he understood whatever organisational system she was using to sort them, only to be confounded by her actions.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, reaching out to lift one of the piles. "Ouch!" he yelped when she slapped at him hard.

"Don't," she ordered. "Just give me the rest of them will you?"

Draco rubbed the back of his hand where she had hit him. He bent down and gathered up the rest of the pages and handed them to her. Hermione took them with only a grunt of acknowledgement before she turned back and started to add them into the piles. "Do you intend to answer my question or do you want me to guess?" he asked. Hermione ignored him and continued to work. "Hermione," he prompted, taking hold of her shoulder.

"What?" she rounded on him. For a second, Draco thought she might actually hit him or something. Then her face softened. A flash of recognition spread across her face. "What?" she repeated in a calmer tone.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked. "I asked what you were doing."

"I'm trying to help you," she answered, turning back to the table again.

"But _what_ are you doing?"

"Sorting these out, now shhhh!"

"Sorting them? Looks more like shuffling to me. What's the point in that?" Hermione grumbled under her breath. "I'm just trying to understand, that's all," said Draco in a placating tone.

She grumbled again. "If you were paying attention, you'd see that I'm sorting these assignments and notes according to their importance and difficulty."

"Why are you doing that?"

Hermione didn't pause or slow down. "Because," she said, "I have to. We need to plan your studies if we are ever going to get you back up to date with your work."

Draco paused, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. The word that really hit him was… "We?" he asked, getting no response. He took hold of her arm again. She turned to him. "We need to plan?" he asked her, in a slightly amused tone.

Hermione paused, then chewed on her lip before answering. "Well…yes…we do." She paused again. "Unless….erm," she shook her head slightly. "Unless you want to try and catch up on your own that is?" she sounded slightly nervous, as if she was afraid that he might not actually want her help. Draco thought about it, his eyes returned to the table and to the stacks of parchment and books that covered it. Looking at it now, there was a lot of work to do if he was going to catch up. What was worse was that the pile would only continue to grow unless he did something about it. He laughed quietly inside his head, given the choice he would prefer to burn them. But, he reasoned, that would cause more problems than it solved and, realistically, it wouldn't solve any problems at all. Draco looked back into Hermione's eyes. She wanted to help him? He had no idea why and, when he looked into her eyes he didn't care. It was enough that she did.

"Ok then," he said. "Where do…we start?"

Hermione sighed in relief, "Right," she said, then looked back to the table. She chewed her lip again. "I…suppose, the first thing we should do is sort out exactly what we need to cover. I think that I've done a good job prioritising the important ones," she pointed to two of the piles in particular, "So we can start there. We need to organise your time too, properly, so you can start to get things done. What we need is a study planner, a guide to follow we can keep track of what we have done and what we need to do." Hermione started to count off points on her fingertips. "We need to divide your time equally amongst the subjects. You're really far behind in all of them so we need to start right away."

She kept going. Draco followed for a while then tuned out. The words no longer registered, just the sound remained. Her tone sounded to him like a tutor he had had during the summer after his first year, Mr. Abeline. That man had spent the whole summer barking orders at him and ordering him to follow dizzying study plans that no one could ever hope to keep up with in a thousand years. Draco had despised him, especially the way that he had assumed that he had the right to control Draco's entire life. It surprised him profoundly that now, seeing the same behaviour in another could inspire such a different feeling. As he stood there, pretending to actually listen to her rant on and on about study schedules and work timetables, it occurred to him that she could just as easily be lecturing him about troll droppings. The words didn't matter, the fact that she was mostly talking to herself didn't matter, all that mattered was that she was here, that she was talking.

It happened fast. Draco didn't remember how, no thought, no memory of the action stayed with him. It was as if he wasn't really himself, more like he was watching himself as he stepped forward. He didn't care that she would be angry. He didn't care that she would hate him for it. He had to taste her again.

"The study journal is important, it must be done right. I had better make it for you. I'll do it later on ton…" was all she managed to say before he kissed her. The sound of her voice died away as Draco moved his hand from her shoulder up to the back of her head. He didn't want her to pull away from him before he could enjoy the kiss as much as he wanted to. He felt a bolt of surprise shoot through her as their lips met. Draco deepened the kiss, wanting to experience the taste of her before she stopped him. His mind simply shut down, all thoughts frozen in place as she yielded to him, her mouth opened with only the slightest resistance. The taste of her that he was pursuing filled his senses, and then overloaded them, leaving him drifting in a blissful void. The only thing he was aware of was the kiss; nothing else existed but the kiss. It made his heart pound against his chest so hard that he was certain that it would punch a hole in his ribs at any moment.

Part of Draco's head started up again. A voice from the back of his mind screamed out at him, urging him to stop. Begging him to break the kiss now before it went too far, before she ended it for him. Draco gathered up all his will and pulled back. Their lips parted and the kiss ended. The first inch was the hardest for him. It seemed to take forever before the gap between them was wide enough so that the scent of her no longer filled his nostrils. The taste remained, there was nothing he could do about that except force himself not to think about it. He took a deep breath to clear his senses before opening his eyes.

Draco looked at Hermione. She was standing there with her eyes closed and her lips parted. She didn't move except for her mouth. Her lips opened and closed slightly in a slow, rhythmic pace. It occurred to Draco that she wasn't even aware that he was no longer kissing her. Something, a massive thought exploded in his mind. He had expected her to resist his kiss, she hadn't. He had expected her to struggle, she hadn't. He had expected her to be angry at him, but she…was she?

Hermione's eyes opened slowly, then widened suddenly in realisation of what had just happened. "What?" she asked in the tiniest of whispers.

Draco looked into her eyes. He didn't know what he saw there, but it wasn't anger, of that he was certain. She wasn't angry at him…she didn't hate him! She knew that he had kissed her and she wasn't angry…so what was she? As he looked into her honey coloured eyes, Draco suddenly felt lighter and happier than he could remember feeling. He smiled, an idiotic grin and he knew it but he didn't care. "You were saying something about a study journal?" he asked her, more curious about her reaction than about the answer to the question.

Hermione blinked at him. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Based on the look in her eyes as she looked at him again, it didn't really work. She shook her head again, harder this time. "Yes, em," she cleared her throat and stepped back, bumping awkwardly into the table. She caught her self and stood up straight again. "Yes…I was s…saying that you need a…a journal to…" she lost track of the sentence again. Draco couldn't remember ever seeing her so muddled and confused before. The fact that he was the cause of it made him positively giddy. Hermione stepped back again and balled her fists at her sides. She took a deep breath before she spoke again. "Well, yes…study journal. I will…make one for you. But…I'd better go, I need to work out what books and things that you…you need to…erm see you l…later Draco." She spun and ran out of the room, barely pausing to grab her bag from the floor. Draco watched her leave, only the sudden certainty that she would come back made it bearable.

"Yes," he laughed to himself. "She'll be back."


	39. Firelight Conversations

Gryffindor's Common Room was its usual bustling, boisterous self. Assorted Gryffindors were curled up in the threadbare armchairs or sprawled on the floor by the fire. They were laughing and joking, playing exploding snap or swapping wizard cards, enjoying what amounted to a quiet evening for them. Hermione, however, paid them no attention whatsoever. She had commandeered a table in the corner of the Common Room and proceeded to spread books and parchment all over it. Enough, she hoped, that none of the other Gryffindors would bother her. Thus far they hadn't. Even Harry and Ron had steered clear when they had entered, choosing instead to join Dean and Seamus who were sitting in the corner, hunched over a deck of exploding snap cards. Hermione hadn't even acknowledged them. Even if she had been on speaking terms with them, she wouldn't have welcomed their company now. Her mind was on…other things.

'Why did he do it?' the question had run round her head so many times that Hermione was sure that her ears would start to bleed at any moment. Her fingers knotted and un-knotted over and over again beneath the table. She had chewed on her lip so much that it was probably already starting to show the traces of the bruise that it was surely going to show in the morning. Draco had kissed her! She couldn't believe it. The idea, the memory of it just wouldn't fit into her head. Why had he done it? How dare he do it? Of all the presumptuous, arrogant, beastly things he could have said or done to her, why did he have to kiss her? Then her mind turned against itself. Why didn't she stop him? Why hadn't she seen it coming? She should have, there had to have been signs, signals to indicate his intentions. Hadn't there?

The true answer to that question was that she wasn't sure. In books, the stupid yet strangely appealing romance novels that her mother read religiously, there were usually some signals before a man kissed a woman for the first time. Sometimes there was a look, sometimes a held breath, a sly smile or a wistful pause. She sighed, there hadn't been any of those things from Draco, or had there? She had been so caught up in what she was doing at the time that he could very well have been wearing a sign that read '_I'm going to kiss you now_,' for all the good it would have done her. She still wouldn't have seen it coming.

'Why didn't I see it coming?' She bit her lip again, instantly regretting it as the pain lifted her and she jumped.

"Ouch!" she hissed aloud. The pain snapped her out of her thoughts, a brief respite from the chaos. Blushing slightly, she sat forward and returned her attention to the table in front of her. Her mind didn't get far from her troubles; the table was covered in her old notes and Draco's half finished study journal. Draco! It seemed that he was everywhere. She couldn't escape him. If he wasn't inside her head sending her mind spinning in circles, he was out here on the table, needing her help to keep his head above water in his classes. Why had he kissed her? Why had he stopped?

"Penny for them," Ginny's head appeared in front of her, smiling.

Hermione shook herself awake. "What?" she asked.

"That is the right expression, isn't it?" asked Ginny, frowning. "A penny for your thoughts?"

"Oh…yes, it is." Hermione smiled.

Ginny smiled back as she cleared a chair and sat down opposite her. "Good," she said. "Muggle expressions confuse me sometimes, I wasn't sure."

"Well, you got it right. But where did you learn that expression in the first place?"

"I'm not sure." Ginny shrugged. "I heard it somewhere a while ago I think. So?"

"So?"

Ginny laughed. "So what were you daydreaming about?"

"I wasn't daydreaming," said Hermione, trying to force her voice to sound calmer than she was.

"You could have fooled me," said Ginny, "I called you twice and you didn't answer."

"You did?" Hermione frowned, "I…I guess I didn't hear you."

Ginny smiled again. "I guess you didn't. So…who is he?"

Hermione sat bolt upright. "He?" she asked, a little louder than she had intended, drawing looks from several others in the Common Room. "What are you talking about?" she asked in a less public tone.

"Well," Ginny answered, the smile never wavering from her face. "In my years of experience," her tone was playful, "there are only two things that can distract a girl like that. One is clothes the other is men. Now no offence or anything Hermione, but you don't seem to be the kind of girl that would dream about clothes." Ginny's eyes darted to her right, over Hermione's shoulder. "Unlike some people around here."

Hermione turned in her chair to follow Ginny's look. Lavender, Pavarti and a couple of other Gryffindor girls were sitting on the floor by the fireplace, crowded around a magazine. Hermione couldn't see the magazine itself, but whatever it was, it had the girls rapt with attention. It was even enough to keep Lavender focussed, not an easy thing to do when Seamus was around these days. Curious, Hermione strained her ears to try and make out what they were saying. It wasn't all that hard, they weren't being very quiet.

"Look at it, it's so beautiful," squealed Samantha Cole, a pretty blonde third year as she pointed at the open page.

"I know, but I think I prefer the golden one, with the feathers," said Pavarti wistfully, pointing at another page. "I think gold is my colour."

Lavender looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "No," she said, shaking her head slightly, "I think you'd look nicer in cream." She flipped through the magazine. "Yes," she said, settling on a particular page, "you'd look great in this one."

"That's hideous!" Pavarti said, horrified. "Imagine how big my bum would look in that thing!"

The rest of the girls fell into a fit of laughter, though the exact source of the humour was completely lost on Hermione. She turned back to Ginny.

"Ball gowns!" said Ginny simply, apparently an explanation for the girls behaviour. "The new Christmas designs. Pavarti got that magazine delivered this morning, they've been ogling it ever since." She shook her head. "I don't get it myself. I mean, they're nice and everything, but it's not like any of us will ever even see any of them, let alone actually own any."

"Expensive are they?" Hermione asked, though she didn't really care if they were or not.

"Y E S," said Ginny emphatically. "You could probably feed a small country for a year with the price of one of them." She shook her head and rolled her eyes, then stared off into the distance for a moment. "They are nice though. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to wear one. To go to a big, fancy ball all dolled up, you know?" Hermione stared, bewildered at her for a moment before Ginny snapped out of it. "Silly, I know." Ginny laughed. "But there you go. Right," she turned her attention fully back to Hermione, "back to your mystery man."

Hermione found herself blush at the question. "I…I don't know what you're talking about," she said, grabbing at her quill and looking for an empty bit of parchment to write on. It didn't matter that she had nothing to write, she wanted to look busy. "Now if you don't mind, I have work to do." She hadn't managed to finish writing the first word, which happened to be 'Otter' before the quill was suddenly jerked out of her hand. "Hey!" she snapped as Ginny sat down again, pointing Hermione's own quill at her like a weapon.

"Now I know I'm right," she said defiantly through a big grin. "Come on…spill!"

"There's nothing to 'spill'," Hermione lied insistently. "Really," she added, avoiding Ginny's grinning eyes, "Nothing!"

Ginny continued to stare at her for a moment. Then, without losing her grin, she shuffled her chair round the table closer to Hermione. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "It's alright," she said eagerly, speaking loudly enough for Hermione to hear but not so loud that anyone else could. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone." Her eyes darted about rapidly for a moment, "I promise. I…well I just want to know, that's all."

Hermione sighed. "There isn't anything to tell, Gin." Ginny's face fell slightly, as though she finally believed her. "But," Hermione added, driven by a sudden urge to share the turmoil in her head with somebody. There were so many questions and problems battling for space in there, that she felt as if she would burst if she didn't at least try and tell someone about some of them. "If there was something…"

"Or someone?" said Ginny, her curiosity and her excitement reignited in an instant.

"Or someone," said Hermione, "and I'm not saying there is mind you," she added hastily.

Ginny nodded, "Of course you're not, I know, but if there were…"

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a breath. "If there were…well…oh I don't know." She wrung her fingers together again. "I'm not sure what I will…what I would do about it. There's so much going on right now, so many bad things happening…" she stopped herself mid-sentence as her mind flashed up an image of Percy. From the look on her face, Ginny was having a similar thought. Her smile wavered and her eyes glossed over. "Oh Ginny…I…I'm sorry…I didn't mean…I mean I meant…"

Ginny shook her head. "I know what you meant…or what you didn't mean." She shook herself again and repainted her smile, though it was now slightly forced. "But what were you saying?" she asked.

Hermione swallowed hard. "Yes…like I was saying. With…things as they are, I don't know if I want…anything like that to happen. It might not be a good idea, you know what I mean?"

Ginny nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear again. "I do," she said in a calmer, more serious tone than before, "and, to tell you the truth, until a few weeks ago I would probably have agreed with you, but then…"

Her eyes misted over again just as they had when she was thinking about the gowns. She didn't finish the sentence but Hermione didn't doubt for a moment that she could finish it for her. "Then you met Etean?" she asked tentatively.

Ginny looked at her again and smiled, properly this time. "Yeah," she half sighed. "Then I met him and I…changed my mind I suppose."

"But," said Hermione, "nothing has really changed, has it? The world is still…as it is."

"Yeah," said Ginny in a flat tone. "But the way I see it, if you spend your life letting the evil in the world stop you from being happy," she shrugged, "what's the point?"

Hermione was going to say that she didn't know but decided against it. There wasn't really an answer to that question and, based on the way that Ginny sat back in her chair and turned her attention to the fireplace, she guessed that she wasn't really looking for one. She sat still and quiet for a full minute, staring into the dancing flames.

"Can I ask you one more question?" said Ginny at last. "I'll leave you alone then, I promise," she added when she saw Hermione scowl slightly. Hermione sighed and nodded slightly. Ginny leaned forward again. "This whoever he is…"

"I…" Hermione started to interrupt.

"If he were to exist that is," said Ginny rapidly, cutting her off. "Does he…or rather, would he make you happy?"

Hermione thought about it, the question came so far out of left field that she really didn't know how to answer it. In the end, "I don't know," was the best she could come up with. "That's another problem I suppose," she added.

Ginny nodded slowly. "Ok," she said, laying a hand on top of Hermione's. "In that case, do you want some free advice from a friend?" Hermione nodded. "Find out! If he does, then stick with it and damn the world. If he doesn't…well at least you'll know it then won't you?" she smiled and sat back. Hermione was mulling over what Ginny had said when she suddenly leapt to her feet. "Toadstools!!!" she shrieked, "I'm late." Ginny turned and headed round Hermione's chair toward the door, muttering to herself. "I'll never hear the end of it…maybe if I run…"

"Ginny?" Hermione called.

"What?" said Ginny, spinning back to face her.

"Thanks," said Hermione warmly.

Ginny beamed at her. "You're welcome," she said, "Anytime. Now, you'll have to excuse me, I have a Slytherin to chase down," she spun on her heel, ignoring the grumbling grievances from several of the Gryffindors who apparently equated her words with treason.

Ginny was a blur of red hair disappearing out of the Portrait Hole as Hermione whispered to herself. "So have I!"

The rest of the Gryffindors returned to their earlier pursuits with the exception of Ron. He snarled in anger and bounced to his feet, making to follow Ginny before Harry leapt up and restrained him.

"Don't Ron," he hissed. His voice was strained with effort. "You'll only make things worse."

"Worse?" asked Ron, giving up his struggle and stepping back. "How can it be worse? I am not about to just sit here while she carries on with that…prat!"

"Oh, just leave it, Ron!" said Harry in a frustrated tone. "You have already tried to talk to her and she wouldn't listen. If you interfere again, things will only get messy."

"Interfere?" growled Ron, his ears glowing pink with anger. "She is my sis…"

Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Her word Ron, not mine. Don't take my head off again, please. Just let it go for now, there's nothing you can do about it."

"Yeah, Ron," said Dean. "Come on, it's your turn."

Ron relented and sat down. Hermione's eyes settled on Harry who had turned to look at her. His eyebrows raised and he seemed as though he was going to say something to her. Hermione turned away before he could and returned her attention to the table, and to Draco. The conversation with Ginny had helped her sort some things out. At least it had made the questions clear in her head, if not the answers. Would Draco make her happy? The question, like the kiss simply wouldn't settle in her head. But it was a good question and the fact that she really didn't know the answer to it made her stomach queasy. Part of her wanted to jump up and run back to him right then and there. She pictured the journey, every step and turn between Gryffindor and the Hospital Wing. She imagined herself standing in front of him and…then what? Ideas and possibilities collided and shattered against one another. Part of her wanted to interrogate him, to find out just what the hell he was playing at kissing her like that. Part of her wanted to beat the snot out of him for ever daring to kiss her, and yet another part of her wanted to jump on him and beg him to kiss her again.

The different desires bubbled and boiled over in her head and, as much as she wanted and needed to go to him, fear of the fact that she didn't know what would happen kept her rooted in place. Having the will, but lacking the capacity to do anything else, Hermione turned her attention back to the study journal. If she finished it, she reasoned, then at least she would have an excuse to go to him. She could deliver it and leave, see him and then get out before she could get herself further into this mess.

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Draco was still smiling to himself as he lay on his bed. Even now, hours after Hermione had left him, he was still tingling with joy. The feeling of giddy light-headedness seemed to be permanent, and he didn't mind one bit. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt that his life wasn't a complete mess. Life, it seemed, could go on. If he needed any more proof, a distracting pain in his groin told him that, good mood or bad, bodily functions would go on.

Draco stood up and crossed the room to the tiny adjoining bathroom to relieve himself, pulling the glove from his left hand as he went – leather gloves were simply inappropriate for some things. He was washing his hands when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. The half glimpse of his blonde hair and silver-grey eyes obliterated his good mood in a heartbeat. He looked fully at his reflection, examining it closely. There could be no doubt of it; he was his father's son. The hair, the eyes, the shape of the jaw, it was all there. Lucius Junior was staring back at him. It made him sick to his stomach just to look at it…to look at himself. He balled up his fist to punch the mirror and shatter the offensive image but stopped himself. Destroying the reflection wouldn't change the source. Even if he couldn't see it, he would still look like his father. Or would he?

He stared at his face again, cataloguing the features that resembled Lucius. The nose, the cheeks, and the jaw – all were fairly immutable but the rest, his hair and eyes were another story. He rummaged about in his robes for his wand, and in his head for the spells he needed. They came to him as his fingers closed on his wand in his trouser pocket. He drew it out and touched it to his head.

"Dathnel Gruaigaire," he whispered. The tip of his wand flashed white and he felt his scalp start to tingle as the spell took hold. He moved the tip of it round his head, allowing the spell to hit all of his hair before he lowered it. The tingle on his scalp grew stronger as he watched the spell in the mirror. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, his hair darkened. A smile of satisfaction spread across his lips as he watched it get darker and darker until it was jet black all over. Draco turned his head to the left and right, admiring the change. He looked different, that was one certain fact. His smile faded, now he looked like Lucius with black hair!

'Still,' he thought, 'it's a start at least.' He turned his attention to his eyes. They would be tougher. The spell to change them was more difficult. Performing it didn't worry him, but he was at a loss as to what colour he would make them. 'Brown maybe…like hers?' But then he thought, 'No, hers are far too pretty to copy.' He smiled again. 'Maybe black…to scare the shit out of anyone who sees me.' The idea of having people uncomfortable to look at him appealed to him. He was busy pondering the notion when he heard a slight sound from the bedroom behind him.

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Hermione laboured and worked into the night, somehow managing to ignore numerous attempts from her housemates to break her concentration, which was hanging by a thread as it was. She paid no attention as the crowd of Gryffindors thinned until she was alone. She did look up briefly when, well after eleven, Ginny crept back in. She was smiling to herself and jumped in fright when she saw Hermione. Ginny opened her mouth to explain herself but Hermione shook her head and gave her a look which she hoped would convey her sincere desire not to repeat their earlier conversation. It worked, Ginny nodded once and headed up to bed. Hermione returned to her work, determined to finish it and get the dreaded encounter over with. It was well after midnight before she had finally finished adding the final colour coded block to the journal and packed up her wand and quill. She found herself trembling uncontrollably as she packed up the books and pages and stuffed them rather untidily into her bag. She dumped the bag in the corner and picked up the journal, setting her jaw before she headed out.

The journey seemed to take forever. Corridors seemed to grow longer as she crept down them, afraid to make a sound for fear of being discovered. Every little sound she did make was amplified a thousand fold to her ears as it echoed off the walls and nearly made her pass out in anxiety.

"Get a grip, Granger," she whispered to herself in desperate need to hear a friendly voice, even if it was her own. At last, after what seemed like a lifetime, she reached the corridor and the hidden door. Swallowing hard against a lump in her throat, she whispered the password and the door opened.

She lit her wand and slowly, cautiously, she climbed the stairs. At the top she froze, all thoughts of Draco vanished as she looked at the bedroom door. She remembered the door. It was no different than any other door in the school, made of heavy varnished oak, plain with no adornment whatsoever. This door was different. The door she was standing at was a lot heavier than the one she had expected. The light of her wand reflected of a series of carved swirls and designs on the wood, but it was the knocker that most held her attention. Draco's door had no knocker but this door had, and what a thing it was. Set at her eye level and standing at least five inches from the surface of the wood hung a wolf's head, made of what looked like solid silver. It hung there with its teeth bared, challenging anyone who would dare attempt to force entry. Its eyes were two black jewels. They shone in the light of her wand and stared at her. Almost unconsciously, Hermione tucked the journal into her pocket and reached out to touch the wolf. She wanted to see if it was real. Her fingers brushed the metal and, for an instant, she felt a charge run through her. Her eyes slid closed as a wave of dizziness hit her. Added to her already queasy stomach, the sensation nearly made her buckle over.

Hermione fought the feeling down and opened her eyes; the wolf was gone! She was standing outside Draco's door with her hand extended in the air. Her fingers were shaking so hard that they were a blur before her eyes. Hermione clenched a fist and tried to slow her breathing. As she got her heart rate under control she opened her hand again, but her fingers were still shaking as hard as they had before. She shut her fist again and stuffed her hand beneath her right arm, shivering suddenly. Her hand brushed against the top of journal that was sticking out of her pocket, reminding her why she was here in the first place. She steeled herself up and knocked on the door. There was no answer, only silence.

'Maybe he's asleep,' she thought. 'I'd better call back tomorrow or something.' But she didn't move, instead she just stood where she was. She wouldn't sleep a wink if she didn't see him and she knew it, not that she slept anyway. 'One more time, maybe he just didn't hear me,' she said to herself and knocked again, slightly harder this time. To her surprise, the door swung open. The room behind it was dark. Hermione stepped inside cautiously and shone her wand around. The room was a mess! It looked as if a hurricane had hit it. All the furniture was broken and hurled about. The bed was lying at an awkward angle on its side. Draco was nowhere in sight.

"What the hell?" she asked herself. Her wand illuminated a series of stains on the wall. She prayed to herself that they weren't what she thought they were but, given the state of the room, there was little doubt. Hermione turned round and round in the centre of the floor, shining her wand into every nook and cranny. The door of the bathroom was open, she looked inside to see that it had been spared the fury that had devastated the outer room, but there was no trace of Draco. She was starting to get really worried now. What had happened here? Where was he? Hermione felt a sudden horrible dread settle over her. What had happened to him? Her mind threw up dozens of images, each more horrible than the last. She had to find him! She'd tear the castle apart if she had to. Hermione turned to leave when she noticed something on the floor. She bent to retrieve it, recognising it instantly. 'But,' she thought, 'what was he doing here?' Clutching the tea cosy in her hands, she headed off at a dead run toward the kitchens.

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By the time Etean got back to the Slytherin Common Room, it was all but deserted. He yawned as he entered and threw himself down across a sofa, letting out a sigh of contentment.

"What are you so happy about?" Pansy snapped at him.

Etean rolled his eyes. 'Not again,' he sighed to himself. "Switch off Parkinson," he growled at her, "I'm in far too good a mood for you right now." He grabbed a random magazine from the table beside him and pretended to read it.

It was the wrong thing to say. "Good mood?" hissed Pansy. "What the hell is with everybody lately that they're so blasted happy?"

"Spare me the whining, will you?"

Pansy stood up and looked as if she were about to argue the point some more. She opened her mouth but then closed it again. She shook her head. "I'm sorry if I disrupted your good mood, Etean." She stormed off toward the bedrooms, nearly flattening Nott on her way out.

"Well excuse me," he said as he recovered his balance. He turned to Etean. "What the hell is up with her?" he asked.

"I'll give you three guesses," replied Etean, dropping his magazine. "But you'll only need one."

"Draco?" said Nott, dropping into a chair opposite Etean.

"What else?" Etean sighed.

Nott shook his head. "She needs to sort her head out," he said. "This is getting boring."

"I didn't know that you were paying that much attention," said Etean idly.

"I'm not," replied Nott. "But it's hard not to notice. She's been like a thunderstorm waiting to happen ever since Draco disappeared. You only have to let her see you smile and she goes for your jugular. It seems she won't be satisfied until everyone else is as depressed as she is."

"Misery loves company," said Etean. "But I suppose she'll get over it in time."

"And we are just supposed to put up with her until then, are we?"

Etean sighed. "Until then, Theo, there isn't much else we can do about it, is there?"

"I don't suppose there is," said Nott, sounding very unhappy about it. "But I swear, if she lays into me one more time for no good reason I'll swing for her."

"I hope that remark wasn't meant for me," said an oily voice from behind Etean. He turned to see Annabelle appearing up from the bedrooms. Her expression was expectant as she glared at Nott. "Theo?" she prompted him.

Nott cleared his throat. "No," he said in a tone that seemed to suggest that the notion was ridiculous, "of course not."

"Then," said Annabelle as she crossed the room toward him, "who were you referring to?"

"Pansy," said Nott.

Annabelle stopped beside his chair and glared at him for a moment, then she shook her head. "Oh," she said, spinning round and plopping herself onto Nott's lap, "her. She's kicking off again is she?"

"Yes," Etean answered.

"The usual: the world is my enemy routine," added Nott.

Annabelle made a growling noise in the back of her throat. "Again?" She looked from Nott to Etean. "Is it just me or is that getting old really fast?"

Nott nodded at her; Etean raised an eyebrow. "She's just worried about Draco."

"Obsessed is more like it," said Annabelle. "She's been pestering the staff relentlessly with questions about him ever since he pulled his little disappearing act. I heard that she even got herself a detention for bursting in uninvited on McGonagall's second year class." Annabelle shook her head. "Draco had better come back soon, that's all I can say. Before someone kills her."

Etean wasn't all that surprised by Annabelle's words, but the edge in her voice seemed to him to be a little above what was called for. He was going to comment on it, but Nott spoke up before he got the chance. "I wouldn't count on Draco coming back anytime soon, Baby," he said.

Annabelle turned to look at him. "What makes you say that?" she asked. Etean was curious too.

"Just something I heard," he said with a slight grin.

"Which was?" asked Annabelle.

"Which was that Draco's continued absence, or his return is not something he can control. Even if he wanted to, he can't come back unless Dumbledore allows him."

"So what?" said Annabelle in an astonished tone, "He's a prisoner or something? Dumbledore has him locked up?"

Nott nodded. "In a secure ward in St. Mungo's, or so I heard anyway. He's under twenty-four hour supervision."

"For what?" barked Annabelle. "What does that old fool think he'll do? Kill someone?"

"Kill himself is more like it from what I hear…"

Etean tuned out the conversation for a moment. Nott certainly seemed convinced that his little story was true and it didn't take a genius to work out that Annabelle believed him. From whatever source it had come, the lie had convinced Nott, an interesting little fact. So the question was, given the correct stimulus, could Nott be made to believe other lies? If so, what lies would it be most beneficial for him to believe? Etean returned his attention to the present as Annabelle stood up. She took Nott's hand,

"Are you coming?" she asked suggestively, nodding toward the stairs down to the bedrooms.

Nott grinned wide, but then shook his head. "Maybe later," he said, standing up, "I have…something to take care of first."

Annabelle seemed to understand what this meant, she nodded and gave him a peck on the cheek before leaving, pausing only to say goodnight to Etean over her shoulder. Nott watched her go then straightened his robes. He looked down at Etean.

"Don't ask," he said, before Etean could ask what he was doing, "It's a private matter." He turned away, then paused. "Just do me one favour."

"What?" Etean asked.

Nott glanced about to ensure that nobody else was within earshot. "If anyone asks, tell them you haven't seen me. You have no idea where I am, got it?"

Etean swallowed his initial, biting remark at the way that the request had been delivered. He didn't like being ordered to do anything by anyone, least of all by this twit. He nodded. "Sure."

Nott grinned and left. Etean let him get a minute's head start before he got up and headed to the bedroom stairs. He descended a couple of flights until he was alone before he reached into his robes and took out his cloak. Packed up, it was no larger than a handkerchief. He flipped it in the air, mentally stroking it awake and persuading it to open out to its full size. It obeyed and he donned it in silence, lifting the hood and fading into the shadows before he turned and darted back up the stairs.

None of the students that remained in the Common Room noticed the outer door opening and closing in silence. Once outside, he closed his eyes and focussed on Nott. It only took him a moment of sifting through the noise of the school and he found him heading toward a lesser used section of the dungeons. Etean moved as quickly as silence allowed to catch up. He passed nobody on his journey, Nott having chosen a good place to go for someone who didn't want to be disturbed. Etean was still a couple of minutes behind him when he sensed Nott come to a stop. He had gotten wherever he was going. Etean quickened his pace, though as it turned out, he needn't have bothered.

Nott's destination was a storeroom. It had the look of a place that had once held large casks of wine or some other liquor, but it had long been unused. The few remaining barrels were all empty and broken. Their shattered remnants lay scattered on the floor. Etean was surprised to see then when he entered and picked his way to where Nott was standing that the room had a fireplace. He focussed on it and forced his mind into the Ether. The fireplace was new, as in brand new. The spells that had created it were still shimmering inside the marble. A small but active little fire burned in the hearth, providing the only illumination for the room. Etean saw on closer inspection and to his further surprise that the fireplace was connected to the Flu Network. The connection, like the fire itself seemed new. Etean's impression of Theodore Nott's magical skills was elevated a notch. To create a fire and connect it so quickly without raising seven kinds of hell in the castle was a major achievement indeed.

Nott didn't look all that pleased with himself. If anything he looked annoyed, or scared…or both. He went from pacing nervously across the dusty floor to chewing his nails to chewing his nails while pacing. Etean decided to find a nice spot and make himself comfortable. Nott was clearly waiting for something and so, therefore, must he. He moved over to the corner, decided not to risk sitting on one of the rotten casks and sat on the floor with his back to the wall. He didn't have long to wait, barely ten minutes had passed when, at nearly half past midnight, the fire sputtered. Nott spun and dropped to his knees as it sputtered again and a man's head appeared in the flames.

"Father," Nott addressed the man, to Etean's not so surprise.

"Theodore," Nott Senior said, "I am glad to see that you are on time for once."

Nott sighed slightly. "Yes, of course I am father, though I don't like doing this. If Dumbledore finds out…"

"How will he?" asked Nott Senior. "I trust you followed my instructions to the letter?"

"Yes father, I did it the way you showed me."

"Excellent, then Dumbledore should be none the wiser, provided of course that we keep our conversation short. How are things progressing?"

Nott hung his head slightly. "Fine I guess."

"You guess?" Nott Senior's voice took on a dangerous tone. "How do you mean? At last report things were progressing well, what has changed?"

"Nothing, it's just…"

"Yes?"

"Well….Etean is no fool, father." Etean's attention spiked. 'What?' "He isn't going to trust me overnight. He's too smart for that."

"Yes," Nott's father smiled at him. "Of course he isn't going to just trust you. But he is not so smart that he is above needing help. Have you explained that to him?"

"I have," Nott nodded, "I told him exactly what you told me to tell him."

"And?"

"And…I think he listened."

"But you aren't sure?"

"No," Nott shook his head, "I can't figure him out. One minute I get the impression he's totally on our side, the next…he changes. It's like he becomes a different person from one minute to the next. I have a feeling that he's on nobody's side but his own."

"Well, of course he is," spat Nott Senior. "The Eteans have always been survivors. It's genetic at this stage. He will do whatever is in his own best interest. All you need to do is to convince him that what you are offering _is_ what's in his best interest."

"But I don't know that I can father," said Nott carefully. "I'm operating in the dark here. How can be expected to…to think on my feet in conversations…to know what to say and what not to say, when I'm not fully aware of what it is that I am offering?" Nott hesitated slightly. "Perhaps…if I knew what it was that the Dark Lord wants with Etean, it might help me understand."

"You do not need to understand, Theo, in order to carry out my instructions. Just tell him what I tell you to tell him and not a word more." Nott's father's voice was full of ice. "And, as for what Lord Voldemort wants with Lord Etean…" He laughed. Etean felt a wave of surprise and fear pour out of Nott at the sound of his father saying the name. Along with the cold laughter from the fireplace, it made Etean feel as if the temperature in the room had dropped suddenly.

"Father, I…" Nott started.

"Please, Theodore," said his father in a stern tone. "You should really learn to view matters with a mote of perspective. I doubt if Lord Etean has even entered into Lord Voldemort's plans as yet. He is focussed on…other matters that he has chosen to keep private for the present. But, and this is the point that I feel I must stress Theodore, His agenda is not the only one."

"I don't understand, father," said Nott quietly.

"Nor should you," his father spat at him. "You need only obey. Your job, Theodore, is to gain Lord Etean's trust. More than that…you must make him believe in you…he should depend on you as much as possible. The reasons don't matter. You do it because I tell you to do it, not because Lord Voldemort wants it."

"But…to betray the Dark Lord, father?" Nott's voice was filled with genuine fear as he spoke.

His father laughed again. "Who said anything about betrayal, Theo? As far as I know, Lord Voldemort has no plans for Lord Etean…and if I do, that does not violate any order he has given me. If…someday…his plans change then I _may_ re-evaluate my position, but not before. Now," his voice became even sterner, "you know what you have to do?"

Nott nodded slowly. "I do, father." His voice was a choked whisper.

"Do it then!" Nott Senior ordered, and then disappeared with the faintest popping sound.

Nott knelt there without moving for a long time. Etean got the impression that he would need some time to absorb what had just happened. He didn't blame him. In fact, Etean could barely believe it himself. The revelation that not only was he the specific target of a Death Eater's scheme, but that the Death Eater in question was skirting the edge of betraying his master with that very scheme was a shock to say the least. Etean stood up as Nott took out his wand and from a kneeling position began to dismantle his fireplace bit by bit. He was working slowly, as if his brain wasn't engaged in the task. There was little point in hanging around any longer so Etean left him to it. Etean's mind began yet another rearrangement of players as he travelled toward the Training Room. Nott was degraded. It was now clear that his father was the real mystery and it was also clear that Nott's father would not share his intentions with his son anytime soon. So splitting them up, Nott became a tool, a thing to be used to get to the truth, to his father. Etean smiled to himself. He need only push him far enough and he would break and open the door to his father – and to his father's secrets.

Etean reached the Training Room and entered. The table was still as he had left it, covered in reports of Death Eater activities. Etean waved his hand and muttered a cleaning spell under his breath. He had had enough of those reports to last him a lifetime, there was little use in keeping them any longer. A twinge in his temple prompted him to conjure and consume his potion almost without thinking. His mind was still churning over the evenings encounter when the door behind him opened.

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Hermione skidded to a halt outside the entrance to the kitchens, Dobby's tea cosy clutched in her hand. She reached up to tickle the pear. Her fingers were still trembling but she ignored it. The handle appeared out of nowhere and she opened the door. There was a massive commotion inside. It seemed that every house elf in the school was there, and all clamouring and jostling for position round the fireplace. A couple of them looked up and shrieked when they saw Hermione. Most of the elves in the school were terrified of her, they were afraid that she'd try and free them at any moment. The majority of them were too preoccupied to notice her, however. Hermione couldn't remember ever seeing them so worked up.

Through their whispers, Hermione thought she could hear the sound of someone crying, a strange, high-pitched wailing sound. She pushed forward, shoving elves aside as gently as she could until she could see the cause of the commotion.

"Dobby?" she said when she finally found him. "What's wrong?"

Dobby didn't answer her. He was sitting with his back to her, huddled up in a little ball. Winky was sitting beside him with her arm around his shoulder.

"Dobby!" she said in an urgent voice. "Miss is asking you a question, Dobby. Be a good elf and answer Miss." Dobby ignored Winky's pleading and continued to sob. Winky looked up at Hermione and shook her head. "Winky is sorry, Miss," she said, "Dobby is being very upset, he is not meaning to be a bad elf Miss."

Hermione knelt down. "What's upset him, Winky?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm despite the growing panic in her heart. "What happened to him?"

"Winky isn't knowing Miss," said Winky sorrowfully, "Dobby is coming in like this, Miss. He is not saying what is wrong, Miss, no matter how many times Winky is asking him."

Hermione shuffled forward and laid a hand on Dobby's shoulder. "Dobby," she said in the softest voice she could manage. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"NO!" Dobby shrieked suddenly, making Hermione and Winky jump in fright. The other elves hissed and drew back from them. "Dobby is not telling," Dobby howled through increased sobs, "Dobby is not telling again. He was not wanting to tell Master Draco, but Master Draco is making him. Master Draco is getting very angry, he is scaring Dobby. Then he is getting even angrier. He is screaming and hurting himself and it is all Dobby's fault. Dobby is not telling again!" he repeated then buried his head again and wailed uncontrollably.

"Bad Dobby!" Winky hissed in his ear. "You is not supposed to be talking like that to Miss." Dobby ignored her scolding. He covered his ears and started to rock back and forward, whimpering to himself. Winky turned to Hermione. "Sorry again, Miss," she said through quivering lips, "Winky is thinking you should go, Miss. Winky is taking care of Dobby."

Hermione barely heard her. Draco hurt himself? Her thoughts scrambled and she felt suddenly dizzy. Her queasy stomach lurched. Now she really did have to find him and fast. She stuffed Dobby's tea cosy into Winky's arms and without so much as a word to the elves, she jumped up and ran out of the kitchens.

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Draco spun in alarm. His fingers tensed on his wand as he killed the light and opened the bathroom door as quietly as he could. Another sound! The quiet scuff of someone moving a chair across the floor floated to his ears. Draco extended his senses to try and identify his new visitor. There was definitely someone there, but the sensation was odd. Whoever it was, they felt different to any sensation he had felt before. Uncertain of what he would face, Draco tensed himself up and leapt through the door. He let his senses guide him to target the intruder as he cleared the doorframe. He was about to roar a curse when he saw two large round eyes glowing in the candle light. They seemed oddly familiar to him. Familiar too was the terrified squeak that the creature let out when it saw Draco. Recognising that it was a house elf, and that he was not in any danger, Draco lowered his wand and looked more closely at the creature. After a moment he recognised it.

"Dobby?" he asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

The elf quivered slightly beneath the tea cosy that it was wearing as a hat. "Dobby is working Sir…he is clearing the table he is. Dobby is thinking that there is being nobody in here, Sir."

"Working? You work here?" Draco asked. "Since when?"

The elf straightened up. "Dobby is working for Professor Dumbledore, he is giving Dobby a job two years ago." It seemed proud of the fact. Draco still couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen that elf since Potter had tricked his father into freeing it over three years previously. Now, here it was, large as life.

"I see you landed on your feet then," said Draco, turning away.

"Sir?" said Dobby. Draco turned back to face him. "What is Sir meaning, Sir?"

Draco looked at the elf; it seemed confused. "You do recognise me, Dobby?"

"Sir?" said Dobby, looking hard at Draco. Then its eyes widened in fright. "Master Draco Sir!" he wailed, prostrating himself on the floor. "Forgive Dobby, Master Draco Sir. Dobby is not knowing it is you, Sir."

The elf continued to bow and grovel. It was an act Draco had seen it do before whenever it thought that it was in trouble for something. "Stop that, Dobby," Draco ordered it, "you didn't do anything wrong so get up."

Dobby got up cautiously and looked at him again. "Thank you, Master Draco Sir. Dobby is thinking that he is being bad, Master Draco Sir."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stop calling me that, Dobby, I am not your master anymore."

"Yes, Sir," Dobby nodded. "Dobby is knowing that Mas…Sir, but Dobby is having a habit."

"Well, it's a habit you should break." He waved the elf off. "Now, do whatever it was you came here to do and leave me be."

Draco turned away again and walked over to the bed. Behind him, he heard Dobby shuffle about. "Sir?" the elf asked quietly.

"Yes." Draco sighed.

"Is Dobby allowed to ask Sir a question, Sir?"

Draco shut his eyes and shook his head. "I suppose so, yes."

"Is Sir in trouble, Sir?"

"What?" asked Draco, turning round.

Dobby glanced round him at the walls. "Is Sir in trouble? Is that why Sir is being locked in here, Sir?"

"Locked in?" Draco asked, then decided he didn't want to have the conversation. "Yes, you could say that Dobby." He said to dismiss the subject.

It didn't work. "Oh," said Dobby. "Well, it is better than the coal shed that Dobby was being locked in when Dobby was being in trouble, Sir."

Draco looked at the elf in disbelief. It wasn't that he was surprised to hear about it being locked in a coal shed, that was old news to him, but the fact that it had mentioned it in that fashion. It had almost been making a dig at Draco for the way that his family had treated it. What kind of elf was this? What had freedom done to it?

Dobby turned away. He picked up the tray that held the remnants of Draco's supper and started toward the door. "Dobby?" Draco called after it.

"Sir?" said the elf, turning to look at him again.

"Do you like being here? I mean," he corrected himself, "do you like being free?"

"Yes, Sir," said the elf, beaming. "Dobby is liking working for Professor Dumbledore, Sir. He is," Dobby stepped closer to Draco and whispered, "He is paying Dobby, Sir."

"Paying?" said Draco, astonished. "What does an elf want to be paid for?"

The elf giggled. "Dobby is saving his wages and buying clothes Sir."

Draco looked at the elf again and took in for the first time the 'clothes' it was wearing. Other than the tea cosy, it had on a pair of odd socks, two large woollen jumpers and what appeared to be a skirt! He shook his head. 'I don't want to know!' he thought to himself. He waved the elf off, and then called it again. "Dobby?"

"Sir?"

"Did you really not recognise me just now?"

"No, Sir," said Dobby. "You is looking very different, Sir, than Dobby is remembering. You is…taller, Sir."

Draco laughed. "I suppose I am."

"You is, Sir," said Dobby eagerly. "You is being as tall as Master soon, Sir." Draco's heart stopped. That was just about the worst thing the elf could have said, and it seemed to realise it. "Is Dobby saying something wrong, Sir?" it asked nervously.

"No Dobby," said Draco in a hollow voice. "You didn't."

Dobby seemed to feel the need to rectify the situation. "Dobby is not saying that you is being like Master, Sir," it said, showing an amazing level of intuition. "Dobby is not thinking that you is like Master at all, Sir. Master is a very…" it hesitated, "a very bad man, Sir," it hissed rapidly.

"A bad man, is he?" asked Draco. "And what am I then?"

The elf shifted nervously. "Dobby…is not really knowing, Sir."

Draco smiled, at least it was being honest with him. "Well, I'll tell you shall I? I'm a killer, Dobby. Does that make me a bad man?"

Dobby jumped and gave a little shriek. "A killer, Sir? You is being a killer?" it said, backing away slowly. The contents of the tray rattling as it started to tremble violently.

"Yes, Dobby. You remember your old Master, do you remember Mistress too?" the elf nodded. "Well she's dead now Dobby, because of me. Master killed her because of me!"

Dobby went paler than he normally was. His eyes widened so far that Draco half expected them to pop out of his head altogether. "He is doing it!" it said. "He is saying he is going to do it and he is doing it. She is not listening to his threats, she is interfering in his business…and he is killing her."

The elf ranted on, it wasn't talking to Draco, it seemed to have forgotten that he was even there. Draco stood up. "What are you saying, Dobby?"

Dobby jumped, dropping the tray and unseating his tea cosy from his head. "What, Sir?"

"You said something about her interfering in his business. What did you mean?"

"Dobby is not knowing, Sir," said the elf evasively. It dropped to its knees and started to gather up the tray again.

Draco dropped down beside it and grabbed its wrist. "Don't lie to me Dobby," he growled, causing Dobby's eyes to widen again in fright. "Tell me what you meant," Draco demanded, releasing the elf but not backing away.

Dobby shifted on his knees, a visible shiver ran through him. "It is…it is just something that Dobby is remembering Master saying Sir," it said at last.

"What? What did he say?" Draco pleaded with the elf. He had to know. "Tell me Dobby, please."

"D…Dobby is remembering…an argument that Master and Mistress is having years ago, Sir."

"Tell me what happened, Dobby," said Draco.

Dobby shut his eyes in concentration as he conjured up what appeared to be a difficult memory to relive. "Dobby is remembering…Before Master Draco is being sent to school, Dobby is cleaning behind the big clock in the Gallery Room, Sir. Mistress is there but she isn't knowing that Dobby is there. Dobby is being quiet so Dobby doesn't upset Mistress. Then," Dobby shuddered, "Master is coming in. He is really angry with Mistress and they is having a row."

Draco took a breath to try and rein in his growing anger. "What did they row about, Dobby?"

Dobby looked up at him, "Master Draco, Sir!"

"Me?"

"Yes, Sir. Master is angry because Mistress is accepting Master Draco's place in Hogwarts without his permission. Master is saying that he doesn't want Master Draco going to Hogwarts. He is wanting Master Draco to go to Du…Dung…"

"Durmstrang," Draco prompted. His Father had wanted him to go there, but Mother objected and they had sent him here. "That was what they rowed about?"

"Yes, Sir. Master is being very angry with Mistress. He is saying that she is interfering in his business. That Master Draco going to Hogwarts will make things complicated for him. Mistress is saying that she doesn't care. That she wants Master Draco to stay close to her and that she is not sending him to Dungstang. Mistress is saying that it is done, Hogwarts is already being told, so that is that. Then…"

Dobby stopped and started to shudder uncontrollably. "Then what?" Draco urged it to continue. "What happened?"

Dobby's eyes went wide again. It shook it's head. "Dobby is not knowing Sir," it said emphatically. "Dobby is _not seeing_ Sir. Dobby is shutting his eyes. He is trying to being small and quiet so he is not noticed by Master, Sir."

"Don't lie to me Dobby," Draco said, his temper inching closer and closer to breaking point with each passing moment. "Whether you saw it or not, you do know what happened. Now tell me."

Dobby shut his eyes again. "Dobby isn't seeing what is happening…But Dobby is hearing Master yell and…Mistress scream and fall to the floor."

"He hit her?" Draco could barely say the words.

Dobby nodded slowly. "Dobby thinks so, Sir."

Draco swallowed, he was nearly blind with anger and pain. "Then what?" he croaked, he had to hear the rest now, he had come this far.

"Then…" Dobby started, then sniffed. Draco was surprised to see it crying when he looked over. "Then Dobby is hearing Master shout…the word…the word that h…hurts."

"The word that hurts?" asked Draco, and then his mind filled in the gap. "You mean Crucio, don't you?" he asked slowly.

Dobby cowered and hid its face when it heard the word as if expecting it to hurt. When it didn't, Dobby looked up and nodded slowly. Draco dropped back onto the floor hard. "He tortured her," he said quietly, hoping that hearing the words would make it easier to accept.

Dobby seemed to think it was a question. It nodded and sniffed. "Mistress is screaming. Dobby had never heard Mistress scream before. Dobby is…not liking the sound." The elf paused and wiped away another tear before blowing his nose on his jumper. "Master…Master is doing it again, Sir, and Mistress is screaming again, louder now. Then everything is being quiet. All Dobby is hearing is Dobby's own heart Sir. Then…Master is saying that what's done is done, but that Mistress isn't to interfere in his business again. Master is saying that if Mistress is interfering again, ever," Dobby stopped and gulped through a sniff. "He is saying he is going to kill Mistress."

Draco hunched forward, feeling as if he was going to throw up at any moment. Lucius tortured her! He couldn't believe it, but the elf wasn't lying to him. Free or not, house elves just didn't have it in them to tell bald faced lies so convincingly. He tortured her! The bastard. He tortured her…and then he killed her! Draco saw Lucius' face in front of him again and his stomach knotted up with rage. His breathing became rapid and shallow and he started to sweat as adrenaline flowed into him. The world blurred and faded to nothing. Nothing existed for him except his anger and an inescapable pain in his heart. He lashed out, trying to smash the pain but it was no good. The pain expanded, making it hard to breathe. It spread down his arms and legs, making them ache and throb. Coughing he dropped to his knees, feeling suddenly cold. He didn't remember standing up. Every part of him was sore. His clothes were drenched in sweat. He looked down to see that the floor beneath him was covered in dust and broken pieces of wood. He looked up to see the room in chaos. The table was smashed into smithereens, the chair too. His books were shredded and scattered about the floor. He turned to see the bed tossed over on its side. The walls were streaked with what looked like blood! Draco couldn't fathom what had just happened. He fought to concentrate. Each streak on the walls started with a splatter which looked…about the size of his fist. He looked down at his hands. His gloves were tattered and torn, he could see his bloody knuckles through the leather.

Draco stood slowly and looked around again, his mind started to put things together, to fill in the blanks. He got images of shattering wood and flying furniture, recalled the pain of his fists slamming into the walls. He remembered hearing screams and based on the pain in his throat, they had come from him.

Dobby!

Draco spun as he remembered the elf. It had been here when Draco's little tantrum had started but he had no memory of it after that. Draco's eyes settled to the bed and his heart fell. It was lying on the precise spot where the elf had been kneeling. Was Dobby under that? Draco grabbed the bed and heaved, but without his temper fuelled strength, was unable to even budge it. His wand! He needed to find it. He patted his pockets and felt it inside his cloak.

'Thank you,' he sent to the cloak and pulled it out. He stepped back and levitated the bed, dreading what he would see beneath it. To his immense relief the floor under the bed was empty. There was no trace of the elf anywhere.

"He must have run off in fright," said Draco to himself, relieved. He let out the deep breath that he had been holding and dropped the bed with a heavy thud. It landed at a precarious angle. Draco was sure it would eventually topple over, but he didn't care. His father's face still hung before his eyes, bleeding anger into his soul. Draco had to be rid of it, had to be rid of him once and for all. There was only one way to do that, and one person who could help. He spun on his heel and marched through the debris of his prison, out the door and down the stairs.

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Part of Hermione knew that she couldn't possibly succeed. On a good day, and had she been thinking clearly then she might just have been able to find Draco if she looked hard enough. This, however, was not a good day and she most certainly was not thinking clearly. The dungeons beneath Hogwarts were a bizarre tangle of twisted, interlocking corridors. It was easy to lose your way down here and next to impossible to search them alone in any sensible way. Hermione was not being sensible. She was almost certain that she had been down this corridor before. Almost, but not definitely; tonight all the corridors looked the same. Maybe that was why she was lost. She'd been running in circles and based on the stitch in her side and the pain in her legs, she must have been running for hours. Finally she could run no further or she would collapse. Draco wasn't down here. But where was he? She coughed and spluttered as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart rate slowed gradually.

'Where is he?' she asked herself for the thousandth time. She looked left and right, willing the shadows to give way to her eyes and give her some clue as to Draco's whereabouts. Dobby said he was hurt. She didn't know how badly and she wanted, no needed to find out. There had to be something, some way for her to find him. She tried to make herself believe it, but didn't do a good job. It was nothing more than a guess that he would be down here at all. He could be anywhere, and if he was in trouble, the odds of her finding him in time were slim at best. That was it, it was time to face it, she wasn't going to find him without help. Dumbledore would help her, he'd find Draco. She was about to set off for the Headmaster's Office when a shadow passed by the end of the corridor, a tall, thin shadow of a boy.

Her heart skipped, "Draco!" she whispered to herself and set off after him. She rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt. A blinding ball of light shone in her eyes, the business end of a Lumos spell. The wand's owner was nothing more than a dark shadow beyond the light. Hermione stepped back and shielded her eyes as the shadow spoke.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" said a cold voice in a wicked tone. "You should know better than to run around the castle at night all alone, Granger." A laugh. "You never know who you're going to run into."

Hermione's head started to growl at her again, the sound of it lifted the small hairs on the back of her neck. Anger grew inside her and she slapped out, batting the offensive light away from her eyes. "Stop that," she hissed.

The response was another laugh. Hermione blinked, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the darkness once more. The shadow moved toward her. She felt two strong hands seize her by the shoulders and push her back into the wall. The blinding light returned. "Stop that," mewed the voice in a mocking tone.

The growl grew louder in her head, her fingers closed on her wand and she pulled it out. Batting the light away again, she stepped forward and levelled her wand at the shadow. "I said sto…"

There was a movement and her wand was knocked out of her hand. "Now now," said the voice, growing cold again, "play nice Granger or we won't have any fun."

Hermione blinked and pressed herself into the wall. The shadow loomed over her. His wand was still lit though he hadn't raised it again. Slowly her eyes adjusted enough for Hermione to see his face. "Theodore?" she said in amazement. "What the hell are you playing at?"

Theodore laughed. There was a hungry look in his eyes that stirred something in Hermione, a cold fear. "Oh so feisty, Granger," he said, lifting his free hand and running a finger down her jaw line. The sensation horrified her. Fear turned to rage. The growl in her head rose to a deafening level. She closed both fists and slammed them into his chest, letting out a guttural snarl as she threw her weight into him. Theodore staggered back, then recovered his balance. Hermione snarled again and made to leap at him but he was quicker than her. Before she could reach him, before she could smash his face in, his wand shot up and blinded her again. Theodore stepped aside and Hermione missed him completely. She staggered and collided with the opposite wall of the corridor, barely catching herself before she fell flat on her face. Theodore laughed behind her. "Phfewww," he said. "That was close. I never knew you had it in you. This might be more fun than I imagined it…" There was a slight coughing sound. Theodore stopped speaking. He turned, casting the light of his wand down the corridor. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed. Hermione turned to look. Etean was standing there, his eyes shone like diamonds in the light of Theodore's spell. The growling in Hermione's head changed pitch, the anger it had brought a moment ago faded slightly as Etean's mouth twisted into a grin.

"Just taking a walk, Theo," he said in his normal, carefree voice. "I was passing nearby and heard voices." Theodore glared at him as Etean stepped closer, further into the light. Etean looked at Hermione for a moment, she felt a sudden chill run down her spine. The kind you get when you're caught in a cage with a wild animal that may or may not decide to attack you. As Etean looked at her, Hermione could almost see the decision going on behind his eyes. His smirk remained as he turned back to Theodore. "When you said you had business to attend to, I never imagined that," he pointed at Hermione, "this is what you had in mind."

If Hermione felt annoyed at being spoken of in this way, the sound in her head and the fact that she didn't know what Etean would do if she spoke kept her silent. Theodore seemed thoroughly annoyed with Etean and, it seemed, he lacked any desire to hide it. "I don't care what you imagined Etean, this is my business and this is _private_!" he spat the last word. "Now if you don't mind," he nodded down the corridor, "fuck off!" It was said as an order.

Etean continued to walk between them, turning all the while to keep his face directed at Theodore. When Theodore ordered him to leave, Hermione nearly squealed in fright. She saw something in his eyes for an instant, a flash. The animal had decided to attack. There was no change in his outward demeanour, no sign of his choice but it had happened, Hermione was sure of it. Theodore appeared to have missed it, he stared at Etean's unchanging face and scowled. "Well?" he hissed after a moment. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"

Etean spread his arms wide. "Nothing," he gave Theodore a slight bow. "Nothing at all." He turned and walked away, fading into the shadows. He was almost out of sight before he stopped and bent down as if to retrieve something. Theodore had returned his attention to Hermione, the hunger back in his eyes. He seemed to think that Etean was gone, he hadn't noticed him stop. "Theo?" said Etean calmly. Hermione tensed, sensing something coming.

Theodore growled again and turned. "What?" he barked.

Etean answered in kind. Hermione didn't see him move but there was a flash of light and Theodore crumpled to the ground. The light of his wand died, leaving Hermione in total darkness. Over the sound of her heart racing and the growl in her head that still hadn't stopped. Hermione heard slow footsteps as Etean strolled back toward her. "Never tell me what to do," he said, finishing his last statement. Hermione swallowed in the dark, the animal had attacked once, would he attack twice?

She opened her mouth to speak but never got the chance. Etean reached out blind and clamped a hand over her mouth. He whispered and there was light. Etean was holding a wand aloft. Hermione's eyes were drawn to it and she was surprised to see that it was her wand he was holding. Without speaking, he twisted the wand in his fingers and offered it to her. She reached out with a trembling hand and took it. Etean's eyes sparkled in the light of the spell. Hermione was transfixed by them, the rest of the world vanished. The growl in her head changed again, becoming softer. Etean's voice boomed out in her mind. 'GRYFFINDOR…NOW!'

It was an order and Hermione would obey. Of course she would obey. She blinked once, and she had obeyed. She was standing alone in the dying light of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. Silence! There was nothing but silence in her head…bliss! Then her mind betrayed her. 'Draco!' she still had to find him. Now she had to start all over again. She turned to leave and stopped. The growl in her head returned once more, accompanied by Etean's voice. 'STAY!' he ordered, and she stayed.

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Draco was halfway to the Dungeons before it occurred to him that he looked a mess and would more than stand out if he were seen by anyone. He flipped his hood over his head and touched his cloak,

'Hide me,' he sent, feeling the tiniest of responses as it obeyed. He slipped down the back stairs to the Dungeons and ducked behind a hidden panel, taking a short cut almost without thinking. The chill of the night air made him shiver but he ignored it.

Draco met no one on his way to the Training Room, a fact that he was glad of. He reached the empty piece of wall and touched the hidden symbol. He didn't know if Etean was there or what he would say if he was but he was going to find out. The door opened and he stepped in. Etean was there, just as he had hoped. He was pacing and seemed to have not noticed Draco at all. It took him a moment to remember that he was invisible.

Draco lowered his hood and told the cloak to let him be seen again. Etean still didn't notice him so Draco stepped forward and cleared his throat. Etean wheeled around to face him, his face blanked with shock for a moment.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked. Draco looked himself over for a moment and was about to answer when Etean waved him off. "No." He laughed quietly. "Don't bother." He shook his head slightly. "What is it with you and fighting the walls, Draco?"

"They're easy targets," said Draco in a flat tone.

"That they are," said Etean. "So…I'm glad to see you're…out and about again."

"What?" Draco asked before he realised. "Oh," he said, stunned. "Yes I am."

"And?"

"And?"

Etean laughed. "Forgetting for a moment that I can read your mind, my friend, it has always been my experience that anyone that has just had…an epiphany shall we say…will undoubtedly have more to say for himself than, 'Yes I am'! So get on with it."

"Right," Draco took a breath and pushed his fathers face as far from his mind as he could, he needed to say this with a clear head. "Epiphany?" he shook his head, "I don't know about that, but I have decided something."

"Yes?"

"Yes…I have decided that I want your help…to kill my father!"

Etean didn't react the way that Draco had expected him to. He just blinked once, then nodded, "I had a feeling that you would sooner or later."

Draco sighed. "Did you? And?"

Etean paused and drew himself up to his full height. "And," he started, "I could help you. If by help you mean track him down."

"Track him down and help me kill him. I want to do it and I want you to teach me how to do it."

Etean simply cocked his head to the side. "Do you now?"

"Yes, I do." Draco raised an eyebrow. "You know where he is?"

"There are reports…it wouldn't pose that much of a challenge to find him if I were so inclined."

"And are you so inclined?"

Etean paused. "Perhaps, but tell me this first. You want your father dead? Why? Do you want revenge? Or would you call it justice?"

"You can call it what you like, I'll settle for his head. So will you help me or not?"

"You are forgetting our other concerns Draco, they still take precedence."

"To hell with your 'other concerns'," Draco screamed, "I don't give a damn anymore. You help me kill Lucius and I'll do whatever it takes." Draco lost control, he advanced on Etean, shouting all the way. "Do you hear me, Etean? I'll walk right up to Voldemort with a smile on my face and a song in my heart and drag him into hell along with me," he took a breath and swallowed painfully. "Deal?"

Etean shrugged the question away to Draco's amazement. "I could arrange what you ask for. To be honest, revenge or justice, it doesn't matter, Lucius deserves everything he gets, but do you? The only question that remains is: are you prepared for what it would do to you?"

"As long as he's dead, who cares what happens to me?"

Etean laughed. "Nobody apparently, not even you. Sooner or later you will, or you will end up dead but, that's for later. For now just tell me, do you understand what you have just asked me to do?"

Draco hissed and turned away. "I don't want to play another one of your stupid games, Etean."

Etean spread his arms wide. "No game, just a question, but if you'd prefer another one, try this. If you had the chance, if your father were right here, now, how would you kill him?"

"Does it matter?"

"You'd be surprised," said Etean, no trace of humour in his voice. "Would you do it fast, or slow? Would you use magic, or a weapon? Or would you simply strangle him with your bare hands?"

"Well, unless you are finally willing to share some of the secrets about how you do what you can do, it seems that my options would be limited, but I would kill him, Etean," Draco turned back to Etean, "any way I could." Etean seemed to accept this, he nodded slowly then started to pace slowly in a circle around Draco, looking at him all the way. "What the hell are you doing?" Draco spat at him after the second complete orbit.

"Thinking…examining…deciding," was the reply.

"What are you thinking? What are you deciding? Have we a deal or not?"

"Patience. I must first decide if you are ready."

"Ready for what?"

"Ready to learn the hardest lesson that I will ever have to teach you," said Etean, coming to a stop in front of Draco and settling him with a hard stare for a moment.

"If it will help me kill him," said Draco, "I'm ready for anything."

Etean smiled for a second. "We'll see." Etean walked to the wall. He laid a hand on the stone. For a moment nothing happened, then Draco felt the room shift beneath his feet. The whole room vibrated for a second as the wall surrounding Etean's fingers started to glow. A pattern of hidden glyphs and symbols appeared on the surface of the wall. They reminded Draco of those he had seen in the other training room, the one at the Circle Academy. The memory seemed to be from another lifetime. The glyphs continued to glow brighter, the pattern spread and spread until the whole section of wall was glowing. Etean removed his hand and stepped back. The room shook again, a series of thuds and scratches filled the air. The floor shifted again and then with a final thundering boom and a blinding flash, it all stopped. Draco shielded his eyes against it then looked up to see the glow fade from the wall. The stone started to peel away to reveal a door. It was identical to the door that connected the other training room to the rest of the Academy.

"What just happened?" Draco asked.

Etean stepped forward and knocked the door three times before answering. "Something…and nothing." He turned round. "This place is now linked to the Academy."

"The Academy?" Draco couldn't believe it. "But how?"

Etean sighed. "I told you that this place exists only as needed, the same is true of the Academy and…now of the connection between the two. Thinking of it as you do, this place is now both a part of Hogwarts and of the Academy. It is in the castle and, in a way so is the Academy. Does that make sense?"

Draco thought about it one way, then another, then gave up. "No," he said, shaking his head.

"Good." Etean nodded. "You'd be a liar if you said you did." If he was planning on saying anything else, he was interrupted. There was a sound from the door or a heavy bolt being drawn back. Etean stepped aside as the door swung inward. Draco swallowed hard when he saw the dark, hooded figure standing in the doorway. The shadowy man walked forward into the room. The door closed behind him as he lowered his hood to reveal short, greying hair and a lean face. His dark brown eyes stared straight ahead unblinking.

"Who…who?" Draco stammered in sudden fear.

"He is…my assistant. He is here to help you learn this lesson. His identity is not really important, but if it helps, his name is Antoine."

"Antoine?" Draco gulped. "Your assistant?"

"Yes," said Etean, pacing around behind Draco. "Touch his mind."

"What?"

"Do it…it's OK, Antoine knows why he is here. Now touch his mind."

Draco steadied himself and reached out to touch Antoine's mind. He concentrated and brought his thoughts into focus. "He's thinking…"

"I don't care." Etean cut him off. "That isn't the point of this. I know you can read his mind but I want you to see it."

"What?"

"Draw back, pull away from the thoughts until you can see the whole of his mind at once," Etean said slowly. "If you need to, close your eyes."

Draco's eyes fluttered closed. He concentrated harder and tried to see Antoine's mind. The thoughts faded into a chaotic buzz as he drew back. At Etean's direction, Draco gave each thought a shape, a colour. Gradually an image formed in his mind, a ball of chaotic energy. Thoughts buzzed and flashed about in a hypnotic dance.

'Good,' Etean's voice sounded in his head. Draco was aware of him, watching through Draco's own eyes. 'You can see it. Now, give it a form.'

'How?'

'Don't think, just let it take shape. It isn't what it looks like now, not a formless ball of thoughts and feelings. It's a living thing, a free entity all of its own. Let it take its shape.'

As Etean spoke, the ball of thoughts started to shrink. The light inside it grew brighter as it collapsed in on itself and took shape. Draco watched in stunned amazement as it started to form…a butterfly. Draco couldn't remember ever seeing the like of it before. It was a butterfly, but it was as if it was made of light. Nothing he could conceive of could be more beautiful, more perfect. It just sat there in his mind, seeming content merely to exist.

"It's beautiful," Draco whispered. The sound seemed to scare it. The butterfly moved, turned to fly away. "NO!" Draco shouted, reaching out to catch it. It couldn't go away so soon, he wanted it to stay. It fluttered, Draco reached out but he couldn't reach it, Etean was holding him back. The butterfly fluttered again. "Let me go!" he yelled.

Etean released his hold and Draco surged forward. He reached out and seized the butterfly with both hands. A sudden jolt ran through him, a wave of pain, an instant of fear and it was gone. He heard a thud and opened his eyes. Antoine had collapsed, he was lying face down on the floor, unmoving. Etean was leaning against the wall. He stepped forward.

"Well done," he said.

Draco looked from Etean to Antoine and back again. "What?" was all he could say.

"I said well done Draco. That was faster than most."

"What was faster? What just happened?" he looked back at Antoine. A lump swelled in his throat, Antoine was not moving…at all. "Is he…"

"Dead?" Etean finished for him. Draco nodded. "That depends," he stopped beside Antoine and with cold unconcern, lifted him with his foot and rolled him over onto his back, "on how you define death." Antoine lay on the ground. Draco saw that he wasn't dead. His chest rose and fell as he breathed in and out, his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling, but he wasn't moving, not a muscle. Etean continued. "Is he alive?" He cocked his head to the side. "Well his heart is beating. You can see he's breathing…but," he knelt down and passed his hand over Antoine's eyes, getting no response, "his mind is gone."

"Gone? How?"

"You just destroyed it." Etean said it simply. "Crushed it in the palm of your hand – metaphorically speaking of course."

Draco's heart froze solid. "I didn't mean to…I just wanted to…"

"Hold it? Possess it?" Etean clucked his tongue and smiled. "The mind is a funny thing, brilliant…complex…"

"Beautiful!" Draco added without realising it.

"Beautiful," Etean nodded, "and fragile. It takes a different form for everyone that sees it, but always something small and delicate. For you it was a…"

"Butterfly," Draco filled in the pause, his throat knotted as he looked down into Antoine's vacant eyes. "It was a butterfly."

"And now it's gone." Draco rocked on his heels. Etean stood up and closed his fist in the air. "You destroyed something that can never be replaced in this world and now," he backed away toward the door. "Now you have to face what you did."

Etean turned to leave, Draco chased after him. "Wait…where are you going?"

"Out for a walk," he said dismissively.

Draco couldn't believe how little Etean seemed to care. "A walk? You can't…You have to…"

"What?" Etean spun round. Draco stopped, locked in place by his eyes, "What do I have to do?"

"I…I don't know," Draco's mind wouldn't engage, he looked at Antoine. "Fix this somehow."

"Fix it?" Etean laughed. "How would I do that?" Before Draco could answer, Etean cut him off. "No, I can't fix this. It's your problem now…you deal with it. If you can, _then_ we will have a deal Draco." He turned away again and opened the door. "I'll see you in the morning." And he was gone.

"What?" Draco shrieked, crossing to the door in a heartbeat. "The morning? You expect me to stay here till…" he never finished the sentence. The door of the Training Room had closed behind Etean and now it wouldn't budge. It was locked and Draco had no idea how to open it, he turned and pressed his body into the door. He was trapped! His eyes settled on Antoine's immobile form. Trapped!


	40. The Hardest Lesson

Nott gave a sniff and Etean looked from his drawing for a moment, but just a moment. Nott was still held firmly asleep by the remnants of the spell. Etean sighed; he had overdone it…slightly. His intention had been to knock him out for a couple of minutes, not the rest of the night. Had Granger not been there…but that was a thought for another time, overdone or not, the result of the encounter would be the same. Anytime now, soon hopefully, Nott would wake up, and he would not be happy in the least.

Etean returned his attention to the parchment in front of him, to his drawing, and sighed. "Eigho: The protector of body and mind." He whispered the glyph's meaning as he finished, adding the final patch of colour. It was one of the thousand or so Valkar marks that Etean could read off the top of his head. As symbols went, it was not really that important, no more so than any other at least, except of course for the fact that Etean didn't have any other Valkar glyphs tattooed on his arm. That blasted tattoo! It had been months since he had even thought about it. The current problems had pushed it almost totally from his mind. At least, that was until last night. Etean drew his sleeve up and looked at his forearm. The skin surrounding the tattoo had almost returned to normal, but was still slightly inflamed. It didn't sting anymore but that was little comfort, it shouldn't have stung at all. Etean knew what it was, just a tattoo, if made a little more permanent by the way he had drawn it on. There was nothing about it that was unusual, so why had it hurt him? The question frustrated Etean a great deal.

The tattoo was forgotten in an instant as Nott shifted in his sleep. Etean focussed on him and knew he was waking up at last. His attention turned to the room's other bed. The smaller of the sixth year bedrooms in Slytherin held only two beds. Etean, having the impression that there were rather more sixth year boys in Slytherin at the moment than was normal, assumed that this room had not really been meant as a bedroom at all. It had the look of an oversized cupboard about it. Blaise, the bed's occupant, gave a tremendous grunt, a sign that he was also about to wake up. That wouldn't do. The conversation that was to come needed to be private, though it wouldn't be quiet.

Looking around, Etean saw through the gap in the curtains that Blaise was still asleep, but, he reasoned, there was no sense in taking any chances. He curled his fingers, not quite clenching his fist completely, and concentrated for a moment. A purple ball of light formed on his palm at his command. Etean flicked his wrist, sending the ball high over his head. He reached out mentally, seized it at the apex of its flight and flicked it hard. The spell shot unguided through the gap in the curtains around Blaise's bed. Etean didn't look round but he heard and felt it detonate on target. Blaise's breathing slowed as the spell pushed him into a deeper sleep. An army could march through the room now and he would be none the wiser.

'He'll sleep through his alarm,' thought Etean, 'but he'll get over it.'

Nott stirred again and opened his eyes. He looked about him and frowned in confusion. 'Here we go,' Etean smiled.

"Good morning," he said, making Nott tense. "You're in your bed, in case you were wondering."

Nott sat up and stared at him, his face was like thunder. "What?" he snarled.

"I carried you here," Etean continued as though he hadn't heard him. "You could stand to lose some weight, by the way." He smiled at Nott, a genuine sign of his enjoyment of the look on his face. After a moment, he schooled his face into a stern expression. "I think the words you're looking for," he said coolly, "are 'Thank You, Theo.'"

Nott balked. "Thank you?" he hissed, barely able to speak by the sound of it. "You want thanks? You bastard!" He made to leap out of the bed, but Etean had expected no less. Nott soon found that he was in a slightly more annoying position than he thought: he couldn't move. Etean had fastened the blankets across him quite securely. Realising this in short order, Nott gave up struggling and looked about him. Etean guessed he was searching for his wand.

He smiled and shook his wrist, dislodging Nott's wand from his sleeve and catching it neatly. "Looking for this?" he said brightly.

Nott glared at the wand, his face blanched with anger. "A thief, too, are you?" he roared.

"I thought I had better keep hold of this for the moment. I imagined that you'd be…rather emotional when you woke up."

"You think this is emotional?" spat Nott. "You wait till I get out of this bed, then I'll show you emotional."

"Is that so?" Etean smiled. "I don't think I'll be letting you up for a while in that case."

"What the fuck do you think you are playing at?" Nott bellowed, struggling again. Etean pushed a surge of anger aside as he stood up. Nott tugged and pulled at the sheets but failed to free himself. Out of breath, he gave up. "Release me!" he barked.

Etean allowed his expression to darken. "I would advise you, Theo, if you harbour any desire to remain my friend, to always remember precisely _who_ I am. I may look like the other students, attend classes and do my homework like the rest, but that is where the resemblance ends. I am not someone who will take orders from the likes of you, am I being clear, Theo?"

Etean spoke slowly and kept his eyes drilling into Nott's. Nott, for his part, held the stare with only the merest of trembles. In the end, he exhaled slowly. Etean watched him try to rein back his temper. "You…" he faltered for a moment, breathing out more of his temper before he continued. "You call yourself my friend after what you did to me? You're delusional."

"Am I?" He smiled. "I don't think so, Theo. Just what did I do to you?"

"You know full well you prick…"

Etean sent a surge of white fire through his eyes, getting the desired effect. "If I won't take orders, what on earth makes you think I will accept insults?" He withdrew the fire, focussing on Nott's eyes again. "Now, you were saying…and choose your words carefully, Theo," he smiled.

Nott swallowed; he seemed to be making an effort to control himself for the moment. "No offence intended, my lord," he said with only a trace of sarcasm. "But you interfered in my business…"

"Spoiled your fun is closer I'd say," Etean interrupted him. "What was I supposed to do? Just ignore your little antics?"

"You weren't supposed to be there at all. And there were no antics, Etean, we were just…" he paused and his eyes darted warily to Blaise's bed, "talking." He finished simply, "If you had paid more intention before sticking your nose in you would know that."

Etean jabbed Nott's wand at Blaise's bed, opening the curtains. The slumbering form of Blaise lay snoring, twisted in his blankets in the early morning sunlight. "You needn't worry about being overheard," he said, looking back at Nott, "I've seen to that. So you can forget about covering your neck." He twirled Nott's wand slowly in his fingers, the tip glowed bright, leaving a glowing trail of fading fire in the air behind it.

Nott eyed it warily. "I don't need to explain myself to you, Etean."

"No," said Etean in a quiet whisper, "you don't." He stood slowly and set Nott's wand down on the chair. "Well," he straightened his cloak on his shoulders, "I think that will be an end to our conversation then."

Etean turned to leave. Nott struggled hard again against his sheets. "Hey," he squealed as Etean took hold of the doorknob, "you can't leave me here like this…"

Etean spun and in less than a second was back at the bedside. With a vicious kick, he lifted the chair and the wand into the air. Reaching out, he snatched the wand and spun to level it at Nott's eyes as the chair landed with a clatter. "I warned you, Theo," he pushed his anger down into the wand, making the tip glow with restrained energy, "_Never_…presume to tell me what I can or cannot do!" Nott recoiled and winced in fear. Etean let himself rant. "Now…RIGHT NOW…I want you to forget anything and _everything_ you thought you knew about me. I am Lord Etean, not some little lost puppy that you can just tow about on a lead…" Etean stalled himself. He held his pose for a five count then stepped back. He let Nott see him slowly exhale his rage as he spoke in a tone that would sound like he was talking to himself. "No," he breathed. "No…that won't do at all. Calm down my Lord…calm down." He kept his face stoic as he turned back to Nott. "You'll have to forgive me. I…don't take well to orders and I became emotional." He made sure his voice sounded shaky. Etean turned and started to pace at the end of the bed, changing his tone again as he spoke. "Emotions are an annoying thing, don't you think? They have a distracting habit of getting in the way of good judgement, don't you agree? Sometimes," he sighed, "Sometimes they can get the better of me." He smiled at Nott coldly.

Nott swallowed. It took him a moment to recover himself again. Etean watched out of the corner of his eye as his breathing slowed gradually. "I have no idea what the fuck you think you're talking about," he said at last, his voice had a slight tremble, "and I don't know what you think you are doing, but I promise you, you will regret it."

Etean raised an eyebrow. "Will I?" He leaned his head to the side. "Perhaps. But I thought you wanted us to be allies…to be friends?"

"Friends don't attack one another Etean," said Theo sarcastically. "If you were my friend you wouldn't have interfered last night, you would have…"

Etean turned and levelled the wand at Nott again, stopping him cold. "What I did," he said in an even tone, "was save your skin, Theo."

"Save me?" Nott laughed, never taking his eyes of the tip of the wand, "Are you nuts? Just what did you save me from?"

"Yourself." Etean lowered his arm and leaned on the pillar of Nott's bed. "If I hadn't come along and interrupted you and Granger…talking, then in short order you would have found yourself in a world of trouble."

"I don't…" Nott started.

"Don't interrupt me," Etean cut him off. He didn't raise the wand, but Nott's eyes darted to it all the same. "It isn't polite." Etean stood up again and turned, pacing slowly to stand in a spot in the middle of the bottom of the bed. He laid his hands on the heavy, dark wood and leaned forward. "As I was saying," he switched tones once more, to keep Nott off balance, "you were about to get into a hell of a lot of trouble, and the funny thing is that you don't even realise it. You were all alone in a dark dungeon corridor with Granger, a girl for whom you have a baffling and quite disturbing fascination, and who, unless I am very much mistaken, despises you thoroughly." Nott opened his mouth to object, but Etean didn't give him the chance. "Now," he continued, "despite what you might think, I heard more than enough of what went on in that corridor. If I hadn't come along when I did," he leaned down to Nott's eye level, causing the bed to creak slightly beneath him, "you would have raped her, Theo."

Nott gasped in astonishment, "I…"

"It's a harsh word, I know, but I prefer to call a spade a spade. You would have raped her," he repeated, seeing the same flash of fear in Nott's eyes as they darted to Blaise once more, "and that would have been a bad thing," Etean finished.

Nott laughed and tried to look innocent. "You're deluded," he said, sounding more than a little worried, "I told you, we were just…"

"Talking?" Etean ignored his own words about being polite and interrupted him. "Yeah," he snorted, "and I'm a house elf. You can forget the lies, Theo. If I were going to turn you in, you would have woken up with Dumbledore bearing down on you…or an Auror or two."

Nott seemed genuinely surprised by this. "Aurors?"

Etean cast his eyes up to heaven. "For the love of…" He looked down at Nott. "Didn't it occur to you that what you were about to do would have consequences?" He laughed, not waiting for an answer. "When last I checked, rape was a crime and not one that the authorities take lightly. Did you really think you were going to get away with it? Did you even think at all?" He laughed again. "I mean, of all the girls you could have picked, you chose Granger?" He spat the name. "Granger? Of all people, why her? The girl is blessed from on high for Merlin's sake. Gryffindor prefect…teacher's pet…probably Potter's little love pet too for all I know. One word from her and you'd have half the school lining up to pound you into oblivion, and you actually thought you could just have your way with her and get away with it?" he chortled. "What did you think? That she'd look up into your eyes when it was all over and say, thank you? Please, Theo, tell me you are not that simple."

"I could have handled it," said Nott through barred teeth. He seemed to believe it.

Etean did not. "Could you? I wouldn't be so sure in your place. Cleaning up the mess would be difficult at best…the memory charms…the…healing spells…but that's only if you weren't caught…and if you _were_ caught?" He shuddered to convey his point. "Tell me, Theo, honestly, would it really be worth it? Risk expulsion, arrest and even imprisonment…all for her? Would one messy little tryst be worth throwing your whole life away?" Nott didn't answer. He just stared straight ahead, grinding his teeth. After a moment Etean laughed. "What's wrong, Theo? Don't have an answer? Not even a spare insult to throw at me?" He laughed. "Is it that hard to admit that I'm right? Is 'thank you' such a hard thing to say?"

Now Nott spoke. "If you are waiting for me to thank you, Etean," he looked at him again, "you will be waiting for a very long time."

Etean nodded. "I can wait," he said, straightening up. "Patience is a virtue, after all." He raised Nott's wand and said the counter curse inside his head, freeing Nott from the bed. Nott threw the blankets off and sat up. Etean turned away and rolled his shoulders to loosen them. "By the way," he said in an air of casual ease, as if the entire preceding conversation hadn't occurred, "I have been thinking about your offer." He turned back to see a confused expression on Nott's face. "You do remember or little chat a few weeks ago?"

"I do," Nott said coolly.

"Good," said Etean, "because I have decided to turn you down."

Nott leapt to his feet, nearly tripping over the sheet as he turned to face Etean. "You what?"

"Yes," said Etean with a smile. "Quite so."

Nott reeled. "Are you going to explain why?" he asked, clearly stunned.

"I don't see that I have to explain myself to you, Theo," said Etean, sending Nott's words back at him. He saw the moment of panic in Nott's eyes before he turned and left.

He paused outside the door to seal it then headed up the stairs. Annabelle, Pansy and Millicent were standing in the Common Room. Annabelle and Millicent were talking, Pansy was just scowling as normal.

"Are you heading for breakfast?" asked Millicent in a mewing voice when she saw Etean. He nodded and made to move past them. "Hold on," Millicent said, "we'll come with you." Pansy turned on her heel, Millicent made to link Etean's arm until, at a glare, she thought better of it. They were almost to the door when Millicent stopped. "Aren't you coming?" she said to Annabelle, who had remained where she was standing.

Etean took note of her scowl as she spoke. "No, I'm waiting for Theo." She looked at Etean. "Have you seen him?"

"No." Etean lied, suppressing a smirk as he heard the faint sounds of the bedroom door banging far below them. "But," he said, raising Theo's wand into view, "I did find this on the stairs…it looks like his."

Annabelle's eyes narrowed as she looked at the wand. "That is his." She frowned. "Where the hell is he, though?"

Etean shrugged. "Well, if you find him," he tossed the wand to her, "you may as well return this." Annabelle caught the wand and was still frowning as Etean turned and followed Pansy out of the Common Room.

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Hermione stared at the plate of scrambled eggs that was slowly cooling in front of her. She couldn't think of a single thing that she felt less like doing right now than eating. She hadn't been able to come up with enough excuses to shut her housemates up, however. So here she was, surrounded by jovial Gryffindors, trying valiantly not to wretch at the smell of her breakfast.

"Not hungry, Mione?" Lavender asked. "You haven't touched your breakfast."

On any other morning, Hermione would have scolded Lavender for calling her that. The stupid nickname annoyed her to the core, though people persisted in using it from time to time. Today it barely even registered. "No," she said flatly, pushing her plate away and standing up.

"What's wrong?" Lavender asked, a look of deep concern coming to her face. Ginny beside her looked worried too, but she didn't ask. Instead, she laid a hand on Lavender's arm. Getting her attention, Ginny shook her head slightly, looking at Hermione all the time. Hermione managed a weak smile at Ginny before she turned and left the hall. No sooner had she left than she heard Lavender's whispered voice behind her. "What is up with her?" Hermione guessed she was talking to Ginny. She didn't hear what answer, if any, Ginny gave her, and, to tell the truth, she didn't care. She would have answered Lavender's question, if she had known the answer. Well, she did know the answer, and that was the problem. What was wrong? Everything was wrong! The truth was that it would've been simpler for Lavender to ask her what was right.

A bunch of chattering little kids blocked her path out of the Great Hall. A seemingly endless line of them were galloping through the doors in twos and threes. Hermione sighed as she came to a halt to let them pass. Where was Draco? Her treacherous mind threw the question at her again. Hermione barred her teeth and growled under her breath. She wanted to scream 'I don't know!' at the top of her lungs in an attempt to silence her mind. Her head hurt. 'And these noisy little bastards aren't helping,' she thought. 'Fuck, why must they be so LOUD?'

Losing her patience, Hermione pushed forward through them, nearly knocking down two Hufflepuff girls who hadn't seen her coming. Normal Hermione would have apologised instantly, normal Hermione would have made sure they were alright, but this was not normal Hermione. This Hermione was only marginally aware of the collision and forgot it within seconds of it happening. The sight that greeted her in the Entrance Hall nearly made her collapse on the spot. Etean had just appeared from the Dungeon steps.

Hermione's legs turned to lead, stopping her in her tracks. She watched him climb the last two steps followed closely by Millicent Bullstrode and Pansy Parkinson. The second she saw him, her ears were filled with the now familiar growling that he seemed to trigger. Hermione watched as he walked across the Hall toward her. Time appeared to slow to a crawl. It felt as if he had been walking toward her for hours when he finally looked at her. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as his icy stare levelled her.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you that it isn't polite to stare, Granger?" Millicent's voice sounded in her ear. Hermione jumped, she knew that the question was directed at her, but her brain wouldn't engage enough for her to come up with an answer. Etean stopped three feet from her. "What the hell's with her?" Millicent asked in a joking tone. Hermione felt a finger stab into her arm. "Hey, maybe someone's petrified her." Millicent giggled. Pansy laughed, Etean merely smiled.

Finally, Hermione remembered how to speak. "Can I talk to you?" she asked Etean, getting a raised eyebrow in response. "Alone?" she added, feeling Millicent's smart remark coming. Etean stared at her for what seemed like forever, his eyes grew colder with each passing second. Hermione felt her heart slow until she was barely aware that it was beating at all. All she could hear was the constant growl in her ears that she was trying desperately to ignore. Etean didn't answer her, instead he turned his head slightly to his left and then flicked it, a signal for Pansy to leave. To Hermione's astonishment, Pansy just nodded and left. Etean nodded at Millicent and she too walked away without a word.

His eyes darted about the Entrance Hall for a second before he spoke. "This is as alone as you are going to get, Granger." The sound of his voice turned her gut to ice. "So talk," he commanded.

"Well…I just…"

"What?"

Hermione swallowed, she wanted more than anything to look away, but his eyes held her. "I just…wanted to say…t…thank you." She got it out finally.

Etean shook his head slightly and scoffed. "You're welcome," he said, and brushed past her.

She was free, his eyes weren't drilling into her any more. The growling sound faded and her thoughts returned. The question that had been annoying her all night came back as a scream in her mind. "Wait, Etean!" she said, turning to face him.

Her heart nearly stopped altogether as he rounded on her. His eyes flashed white. "What?" he growled.

Hermione shut her eyes, unable to bear his eyes. "Why did…did you save me?"

Etean laughed. "Save you?" He reached up and lifted her head. She opened her eyes and looked into his. "Let's get one thing straight, Granger." He released her chin, but held her eyes. "I didn't save _you_. You were only a detail, and a slight one at that. What I did was stop Theo from doing something that nobody…nobody should ever do to another living soul."

"But the way you just attacked Theodore…I mean, he's your friend isn…"

"Friend?" Etean laughed again. "Now that's a joke."

Hermione frowned. "But…"

"If he were my friend, I wouldn't have had to stop him," Etean cut her off. "No friend of mine would ever dare…" His jaw rolled in anger for a moment, then he glared at her and his eyes flashed again. "What kind of person do you think I am?" he asked. Etean turned away before Hermione could even open her mouth. Apparently, he didn't want an answer. He took two steps, long enough for Hermione to catch her breath, before he stopped. "No," he said, rounding on her again, "answer that."

Hermione couldn't answer. She shut her eyes. "I don't know," she said quietly.

"Good," Etean said firmly, and he was gone.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. The growl faded as Etean entered the Great Hall, giving her a moment of silence. The moment passed in a second, however: the growl rose again, different now. It stirred anger in her stomach. She felt eyes on her and she turned. Theodore Nott had appeared from the Dungeon stairs. He looked flushed, still straightening his tie when he saw her. Hermione's hand found its way to her pocket and her fingers closed on her wand as she took a step back, shaking with anger. Theodore took a single step toward her, the same hungry look returning to his eyes. Hermione tensed, her fingers tightened on her wand further. She was an inch from drawing it when Theodore jumped. His face blanched white as someone appeared behind him. Hermione recognised Annabelle Turner's blonde head as she laid a hand on Theodore's shoulder.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Hermione heard her ask him before she turned and darted up the stairs to the Arithmancy corridor. It was almost a half an hour before the class was supposed to start but Hermione knew that Professor Vector never locked her classroom. She'd be safe in there, safe from predatory Slytherins at least.

Hermione entered the deserted classroom and sat down in her usual desk at the front. She opened her bag and pulled out her book. As she did, she caught sight of the study journal she had made for Draco and sighed. Slytherins! In the nightmare that was her life of late, she was surrounded by Slytherins. Hermione sat in silence for what seemed like forever, trying desperately not to think. In the end she had busied herself, burying her nose in the Arithmancy text when the door of the classroom opened and Professor Vector swept in. Hermione looked up but the Professor was nearly on top of her before she even saw her. When she did, she jumped.

"Oh my!" Professor Vector clasped her hand to her heart. "Good gracious…Miss Granger? What are you doing here?"

Hermione shrugged. "Just reading, Professor. I was early for class and I…"

"You really shouldn't have just walked in here, you know," said Vector in a stern tone. "I leave the door unlocked because I trust my students, but I hardly want them sneaking up on me."

"I didn't sneak up you, Professor," said Hermione quickly. "I was just sitting here reading."

"Yes, yes, I see, I see." The Professor caught her breath and straightened up. "Well, carry on then, in silence if you please. I have to prepare for class." The Professor bustled up to the top of the class and sat down behind her desk. She let out a sigh and cast a stern eye in Hermione's direction before pulling out a scroll of parchment from a drawer and starting to write furiously. Hermione sighed.

'Typical,' she thought to herself. It seemed she couldn't even sit in an empty room without getting into trouble. Glumly, she returned her attention to her book and carried on reading where she had left off, her mind hardly registering the words before her. Gradually, she became aware that she wasn't alone. People drifted into the classroom and sat down. A couple of them spoke to her, but all she could manage was a soft grunt in return. The bell rang. Professor Vector stood up and, with no preamble whatsoever, launched into another lecture concerning quantum variables and how they behaved at higher dimensions.

"To fully comprehend the changes that are going on in this transformation," she said, indicating a series of equations that she had drawn on the board, "one must of course remember that, as the sub-quanta reduce to zero, the variables in the higher dimensions balance, and, in essence, cancel each other out. We must be careful, however, not to disregard them entirely for they have a nasty habit of cropping up later." She pointed further down the board. "Many a time I have had to correct students work in which an careless and improper treatment of a single variable has led to error."

Hermione made an effort to follow the Professor. She understood what she was talking about, or at least she thought she did. It had certainly made sense when she had read about it in the textbook. It was just that the Professor's voice seemed to drone. Hermione felt her eyes start to droop. Every time she blinked it was as if the Professor skipped large chunks of her lecture. The words she was saying didn't join up. Eventually, Professor Vector's voice faded into almost nothing, just a faint hum somewhere in front of her. Then she heard it, the voice far louder than the lecture,

"WE CAN SEE YOU!!"

At the sound of the voice from her dream, Hermione woke up with a start. In her moment of fear and panic, she let out a startled shriek. Remembering where she was, Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth. The students around her hissed and muttered in surprise. There was a great hubbub in the room. Hermione's cheeks burned with embarrassment as she looked up. She had been expecting to see Professor Vector glaring at her but she wasn't. The Professor wasn't even looking at her. Her eyes were fixed on something behind Hermione, at the back of the classroom. The other students had turned too and were also focussed on the back of the room. None of them were even looking at her.

Hermione turned slowly to see what all the fuss was about. She let out another astonished yelp when she saw,

"Draco!"

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The Training Room door opened. Draco felt a strange tug at the Ether as it swung inward, if felt like a sudden breeze. He looked up to see Etean enter. His face was blank and bore no expression. The door swung closed behind him as he crossed the floor to stand beside Antoine's body. For a long moment, Etean just stood there, looking down at him. Draco thought he saw a moment of sadness touch his face.

"How did he die?" Etean asked. Draco shifted and pulled the now dirty pillow from beneath him and held it up so Etean could see it. Etean looked at it and nodded. "I see."

"I could…couldn't just leave him lying there like that," said Draco in a hoarse voice. "Not dead…not alive…existing without being…I…" He dropped the pillow as he ran out of words. It took him a moment to compose himself. "Tell me about him," he said at last.

Etean frowned. "What?"

Draco shrugged. "Did you know him?" he asked.

"Yes." Etean nodded.

"Then tell me about him." Draco looked at Antoine. "What was he like? Did he…did he have…a family?"

"What does it matter?" Etean asked, turning away from Antoine's body. "If I told you he was a wanted murderer, would it make you feel any better? What if I told you he was a devoted husband and father of three small children?" Draco gulped as Etean hunkered down next to him. "Or what if I told you that he was just a man. Not a bad man, and not a particularly good one either, simply a man who was no better or worse than anyone else. Does that make a difference to you?"

Draco thought about it, at least he tried to. A lump formed in his throat. "No," he croaked, "not really."

Etean nodded. "I didn't think it would," he said. He looked at Antoine again, and to Draco's horror, he laughed quietly.

Draco gasped in disbelief at Etean's callousness. "You think this is funny?"

"No," said Etean, "not at all. It's just that it occurred to me that this is the second time I have been in a room, looking at this man's dead body." He looked at Draco, all thoughts of him taking this as a joke vanished as Draco saw the emotions that Etean was no longer bothering to hide. "It doesn't get any easier with repetition," he said quietly. "Hold out your hand."

Draco wordlessly obeyed and held his hand out, palm up. Etean raised his hand, and, with a single extended finger, drew a glowing silver circle in the air above Draco's palm. Something about the way he did it made Draco unafraid, though he had no idea what was going to happen. Etean raised his palm, holding it flat against the glowing circle. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment. The circle flashed and started to shrink. Slowly at first and then rapidly, the glowing ring collapsed in on itself with an alarming flash. Draco jumped and shut his eyes, then he felt something land in his palm.

Draco opened his eyes and gasped as he looked down. Sitting on his palm was a tiny silver butterfly on a fine silver chain. It glittered in the light from the crystal overhead. Draco felt a lump form in his throat as he looked at it. It reminded him of...he looked up at Antoine for a moment, then back to the thing in his hand.

"What?" he asked, not able to say anything more.

"A token," was Etean's reply. "An imperfect reflection of a unique beauty." Draco frowned. He looked up to see Etean roll his eyes. "Yeah, it sounds like nonsense, but I couldn't think of anything else to say." He rolled round to sit on the floor, rested his elbows on his knees and sighed. "You earned that last night, Draco."

Draco scoffed. "By doing what, exactly?"

Etean jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Antoine's body. "You dealt with that," he said in a flat tone, "and you did what was right even though it wasn't easy. A lesser man would have spent the night scrambling to escape from here. A lesser man would have gone out of his way to avoid dealing with the problem…you didn't. Last night was hard, but it was important."

Draco was past arguing. "Whatever."

Etean's expression became darker. "No," he said in a cold voice, "not whatever. Just as I said, last night was the hardest lesson I will ever have to teach you, and, despite what I know you are thinking somewhere in that head of yours, I didn't do it for fun. Nor was I motivated out of any desire to mess with your head."

"No?"

"No! I did it because it was necessary for you to understand…" Etean trailed off for a moment and looked at the door that led to the Academy. Suddenly, he jumped to his feet. "Come on," he said, offering Draco his hand, "I have something to show you."

Draco felt that there was no sense in arguing so, careful not to damage the tiny butterfly, he took Etean's hand and allowed him to haul him to his feet. Etean turned and walked to the door, pushed it open and stepped through into the gloom beyond. Draco steeled his nerve and looped the chain of the butterfly around his neck before he followed him. He was careful to stay as far from Antoine as he could as he crossed the room and was almost running when he entered the door. He felt a sudden sense of falling as the shadow surrounded him momentarily before his feet hit the floor on the other side. Draco staggered and caught the wall for balance. He looked up and saw Etean looking at him. "You could have warned me," he grumbled.

Etean turned and walked off without comment. Draco looked up to get his bearings. He was in the Academy, certainly. The rough cut stone walls and flaming torches brought back a lot of unpleasant memories. Other than that, he had no clue where he was, there were no landmarks for him to recognise. Etean was disappearing in the distance before Draco remembered that he was supposed to be following him. He took off at a run to catch up.

They were not going far as it turned out. Draco had just caught up to Etean when he stopped outside of a door. Etean looked at Draco and nodded toward the door. "Go in, take a look, but touch nothing!" he said in a stern voice.

Draco swallowed before he stepped forward and pushed the door. It opened silently to reveal the room behind. Draco blinked as he stepped inside. Unlike every other room in the Academy that Draco had ever seen, this one was not dark and shadowy, this room dazzled him. Thousands of points of light sparkled from every inch of the wall. They created an eerie sort of silver light that seemed to radiate a sort of solemn respect. The room itself was cylindrical with high walls. In fact, it seemed to have no ceiling at all. The sparking lights continued up as far as Draco could see. The sight took his breath away.

"Look at them," Etean commanded from the doorway behind him. Draco stepped forward toward the twinkling lights and gasped. They were not lights at all. On closer inspection, he saw that each and every one of them was a tiny silver statue something like the one Etean had just given him. There were hundreds, thousands of them. They were all strangely similar though no two were exactly alike. Draco saw tiny silver icicles, delicate little feathers and even some tiny animals, rabbits, cats, birds, too many to name.

"One for every man and woman that has ever lived and served The Circle." Etean's voice sounded like it was from a dream. "They all faced the same challenge that you faced last night, and they all paid the price. This place is here so that we always remember that price. It ensures that we never forget just what it means to be a member of the Circle." He paused and took a breath. "All of us, Draco, have the power to do what you did last night, every…single…one of us. From the most powerful member of the Council, right down to the lowest initiate. It's some sort of twisted irony that most people who join the Circle do so out of a desire for power. Ironic because few ever realise that the power they seek is right in front of them from the start. The skills needed to kill the way you killed him last night are amongst the first that we learn, though you can understand why we avoid mentioning it."

"I never…" Draco started, but surrounded by so many perfect things, he was unable to continue. He jumped slightly when Etean laid a hand on his shoulder and turned him round.

"The skills I have shown you are merely tools," said Etean. "They are the means by which you will achieve you end goals. Those goals will ultimately depend on you. Used the way I taught you, your skills are completely harmless, but perverted…" He paused to let Draco's mind fill the gap. Draco looked down and caught the butterfly. He held it in his palm and looked at it. In here, it glowed like all the rest. Looking at it sparkle, Draco suddenly knew what Etean meant. "You wanted me to show you how to kill your father Draco," Etean paused and looked Draco in the eye, "now you know that I already have."

Draco's felt as if his insides had turned to ice. "I never realised…" he said in a shaky voice.

Etean nodded. "Power, true power, comes from your mind, Draco. That is the most deadly of weapons. It is deadlier than any spell, more lethal than any other weapon in existence. Your mind can't be destroyed unless you are. The skills you have learned are a part of you now, Draco." Etean reached out and closed Draco's fingers around the butterfly. Instinctively Draco tensed, not wanting to crush it…again. Etean took him by the wrist and held his fist before his eyes. "What is this? What can it do?"

The questions stirred a memory in Draco. He thought back to the day he met Etean, recalling his explanation of what real power was. Draco remembered that it had made no sense to him then. But now…"What is it?" Etean repeated. "What did it do?" He released Draco's wrist. Draco stared at his hand. Slowly, he opened his fingers and looked again at the butterfly. It was so impossibly delicate that it was hard to believe that it wasn't alive. Draco half expected it to decide to fly away at any moment. Draco felt the urge to hold it, keep it, possess it and in that moment, it all made sense.

Draco closed his hand around it again. "It's my fist…and it killed someone…" he said quietly as a single tear dropped out of his eye.

Etean smiled. "Now," he said, "you have learned the hardest lesson. The power we have, the power you sought, has a price. Last night was just a deposit, a down payment, on what you will owe before the end. To kill a person, any person, is to destroy something beautiful and irreplaceable. Who they are doesn't alter what it is to kill them." He sighed. "This was the hardest lesson because it can't be taught, can't be said in words. You just have to know it," he reached out and pressed his fingers into Draco's chest above his heart, "in here."

Draco swallowed. He looked Etean in the eye. "I understand."

Etean smiled. He touched the butterfly gently for a moment. "One day, this will hang here." He gestured to the walls. "After you're gone it will remain and take its place amongst the rest." He reached inside the neck of his robes and pulled on a tiny silver chain that Draco had never noticed he wore. He tugged it out and showed it to Draco. On the chain was a tiny silver snowflake that sparkled in the light of the others. Etean looked down at it, then back to Draco "So will this," he said. Draco's eyes moved from Etean's snowflake to his butterfly and he realised what it all meant. That what he was feeling, what he had done made him part of something in some strange way, something bigger than him, something wonderful and terrible at the same time. Etean tucked the snowflake away. "Now," he said as he straightened his robes, "I think we can make that deal that you wanted to make yesterday. That is," he looked Draco in the eye again, "if you still want to…Do you?"

Draco paused. He looked back down at the butterfly in his hand. Could he do it again? "I don't know," he said, "maybe."

Etean reached out and took hold of his shoulder. "Sounds like you have some thinking to do in that case." He patted Draco's shoulder. "In the meantime, we had better leave. This is not a place we should linger." He turned and ushered Draco out the door. They turned and retraced their steps, passing down the corridor in silence. Draco was drifting in thought and was somewhat glad not to have to talk for the moment. They reached the door that led back to Hogwarts. It was the only open door so even Draco could recognise it. He braced himself and stepped through, this time expecting the sudden falling sensation. He had reached the Training Room before he remembered what would await him on the other side. To his surprise, the room was empty. Antoine's body was nowhere in sight. He turned to Etean, confused. "Someone has to clean up your messes, Draco. Now," he pointed at the door, "class!"

Draco's jaw dropped. "Class?"

"Yes," Etean laughed, "class. This is a school, remember? Unless," he smirked, "you want to just go back to your little hideout?"

Draco hadn't even considered going anywhere, let alone back to a classroom, but the alternative wasn't all that pleasant either, now that he thought about it. He shook his head. "No, not in the state I left it in I don't."

Etean smiled. "It _was_ in quite a mess."

Draco frowned. "You saw it?"

"Yes," Etean nodded, "I put it right for you, took quite a while, too."

"Oh," said Draco. "Thanks."

"Don't worry about it." Etean waved him off. "Now," he looked at his watch, "you had better hurry. You're already late."

Draco looked at his watch. If his mind was working, then it should be Friday morning. He concentrated and tried to remember his timetable. Friday meant Arithmancy. Etean was right, he was almost an hour late. He noticed the state of his robes and scowled. By the time he changed and made it to the class it would be all but over. Draco didn't know if he was ready to face the school yet. So much had happened to him in just the last day that he was close to being overwhelmed by it. He didn't need the whispers and the questions that awaited him out there on top of everything else. He looked at Etean, ready to argue the point but Etean didn't give him the chance. "You have to go back sometime, may as well be now."

He had a point, Draco imagined. Eventually, he would have to go back out there. He would have to face them. He took one more look at the spot where Antoine had fallen, tucked the butterfly pendant inside his robes and followed Etean out the door.

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Etean watched Draco disappear out the door of the Common Room. He needed no extra sensory perception to know the turmoil that was still going on in his mind. The doubt and uncertainty would fade over time as he grew to live with what he now knew. Etean sighed in relief. It had been close, closer than Draco would ever know, but he had passed the test.

The Final Test it was called, simply because for the majority of people, it was the last test to pass before they completed their training. Those that passed it took their place within the Circle. They were trusted and tasked with the protection of civilisation itself. Those that failed…but Draco hadn't failed, he had passed the test. Maybe now he would stop looking outward for someone to blame, stop looking for excuses to stop him making tough choices. He was a part of the Circle now and it was time he realised just what that meant. Members didn't have the luxury of excuses. They could never forget the responsibility that they had because they stood apart from the rest of the world. They alone accepted the charge of protecting the world from itself. If that meant that they had to kill and destroy a life then they had to do it, knowing what it was they were doing. They had to know the price of accepting their role. Draco didn't understand it all yet, but he was beginning to. He still had his choice to make and Etean had to let him make it. He hadn't lied when he had told Draco that he would help him kill Lucius, but Draco had to consciously make the choice now that he knew the truth. If he could make it, then he would be ready. He knew the truth, but now Draco had to understand the truth.

Etean let his mind wander in thought. The truth was all that mattered, all the lessons and the lectures were irrelevant, they were just words. The Circle was bigger than words, it was a living thing with a will and a purpose all its own, each member was just a part of the greater whole. They came and went, lived and died but the Circle was forever. For one thousand years it had endured. Empires, wars, plagues, evil in all shapes and sizes, had come and gone but the Circle had remained. It had survived because its members hadn't let it die. They had held on to one another and to the truth that bound them. That single truth: the simple beauty of life and its agonising frailty had held them together stronger than any oath ever could. That was why members weren't required to take any oath or make any pledge, it wasn't necessary. Whatever personal motivations had driven them to accept the offer and join the Circle, the training made them see the choice for what it was – a sacrifice.

Draco's journey wasn't over yet, though. He had a long way to go toward an uncertain fate, but he would get there. One thing Etean was sure of, if Draco died in this endeavour, it wouldn't be by his hand. No, this was going all the way to the end now, there was no other way.

Etean's thoughts were interrupted when the door of the Common Room opened again and Nott came storming in.

"There you are," he snarled, bristling with pent up rage. "Where the fuck have you been hiding all morning?"

Etean took a moment before responding. He used the time to rearrange his thoughts, setting Draco aside for the moment. "Around."

"Where?" Nott demanded. "I looked all over the place."

"Not well enough, apparently." Etean made to walk past him.

Nott raised a hand and blocked Etean's path. "Where do you think you're going?"

Etean glared at his hand, and then at him. "Anywhere I like, now get out of my way." He kept his voice even and stepped forward again.

Nott grabbed hold of his robes. "No, you're not," he hissed. "Not yet!"

Etean paused and made his voice sound like ice. "Let go of me."

Nott didn't release him, instead he tightened his grip. "No," he said, "we need to talk."

"No, we don't." Etean mentally invoked a strength enhancing charm as he lifted his hand and took hold of Nott's. "I told you to let me go, Theo," he said quietly. "That was me being polite." He squeezed hard, exerting pressure on Nott's knuckles from the side. "This isn't!" he finished, smirking as he heard one of Nott's knuckles snap and pop out of alignment. Nott howled and released his grip. Etean turned his wrist over, maintaining the pressure for a couple of seconds before he released him. Nott staggered back, cradling his hand and swearing profusely. Etean turned to leave.

Nott called out to him. "Wait," he said, the pain evident in his voice, "you're making a mistake."

"No, Theo," said Etean, turning back to him, "you are. The same mistake you have been making since I met you."

"I…"

"Your mistake," Etean interrupted with a degree of satisfaction, "was assuming that I am someone that you order about…I am not! What I _am_ is smarter than you thought, Theo."

"I never said you weren't smart," said Nott.

"No." Etean smiled. "You just thought it…bad idea. Did you really think I was going to fall for your little speech? Your generous offer?" he scoffed. "As if your word alone would be enough to make the Dark Lord trust me…please!" He paused. "But it did make me think of just what it would take." Nott tried to say something, but Etean carried on, talking over him. "It would take more than the word of one Death Eater's son…a lot more. The Dark Lord doesn't trust easily if at all. He'd need proof of my loyalty to him, proof of my worth." He paused, as if in thought. "Those I can manage on my own…or fuck up on my own, either way, I don't see a need for you, Theo." Etean turned away again, more to hide his smirk than to leave. 'Come on, Theo,' he thought, 'connect the dots!'

"You're not as smart as you think, Etean," Nott said at last.

'Excellent!' Etean schooled his features and turned round. "Excuse me?"

Nott laughed, then winced. "You still…OUCH…still need me."

"How so?"

"I'm your way in, your only link to them." Nott straightened up. "They don't know you, but they know _about_ you. You have power and influence. You could be useful to them, but you might be a problem, too." He shrugged. "Who's to say that they won't just decide to be rid of you? Kill you off before you get the chance to be a problem?"

Etean pretended to consider this for a moment. "You…could have a point." He dangled the bait…

And Nott jumped at it. "Yeah," he said, visibly relieved. "Without me, you have no way to be sure that they won't just step on you when they see fit. But, if you work with me, maybe we can both prove our worth."

"You mean I can prove my worth while you just stand there and hope that being _my_ friend will be enough to save _your_ neck." Nott didn't respond. Etean looked pensive again. "Alright," he said finally, "do it!"

Nott frowned. "Do what?"

"You want to be my way in? My link to the Death Eaters? Then do it, be the link."

"I don't understand."

"Well, then I'll spell it out for you. I want you to set up a meeting for me. I want to meet them…face to face."

Nott paled. "You what?" he asked, almost shaking. "Why?"

"I don't plan on empty promises, Theo, and I don't take risks with my life blind. If I'm going to get into this, I need to meet them…see them…talk to them."

"I…I don't know…"

"I didn't ask what you knew, nor do I care. I want a meeting with the Death Eaters and I want you to set it up."

Nott opened his mouth, but it was a full five seconds before he spoke. "I'm…not sure that I can do that."

"No?" Etean shrugged. "Well, in that case, you aren't much use to me, are you?"

"It isn't that simple, Etean…"

"Well I'll make it simple for you. If you want to be my friend, if you want to be the one that delivers Lord Etean into the Dark Lord's service, then I want a meeting. If you are going to be my connection to them, then you have to find a way to make it happen. How you do it is up to you, of course."

"Well I…" Nott was really shaking now. He sighed hard. "I'll…"

"Yes or no?" Etean pushed. "I don't have time for this shit."

Nott sighed again and shut his eyes. "I'll see what I can do," he said eventually.

"Good," said Etean, turning to leave again. "Now, you will excuse me." He paused halfway to the door. "Sorry about the hand," he said without turning round. "You should maybe have it looked at." He left without a word more and was halfway out of the dungeons before he allowed himself to smile. 'Got him,' he thought.

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Draco had never felt so uncomfortable walking through the corridors of Hogwarts. Everywhere he went there were whispers and stares. It had started when he had entered the Common Room: there had been a sudden quiet. Every conversation had come screeching to a halt and they had all stared. Draco had had to fight the urge to turn and run back out the door. He hadn't been that embarrassed since the now infamous ferret incident. The one and only thing that made the experience bearable was the fact that none of the other sixth years had been there to witness his 'triumphant return.' The laughter in his head at that thought had nearly deafened him as he changed into fresh robes and climbed back up to the Common Room to find it deserted.

"They all ran off," Etean had said as he handed him his bag.

"Off to spread the gossip no doubt," was his answer. Damn this school, they were fast. Every corner he turned revealed more staring faces. The word of his return was spreading before him like a tidal wave and here he was, marching morosely through the corridors in its wake. He wished the ground would just open up and swallow him. Every shadow looked so inviting. He could step into one and just disappear – literally if he put his cloak on. He sighed, no, that would be the easy way out. That would mean taking a step back and he couldn't do that. He owed it to himself not to take that step. He owed it to his mother, too, and to Antoine. He felt a lump in his throat as he remembered the face of the man he had killed. The pictures flashed before Draco's eyes, the butterfly…Antoine…Antoine's face. He had just laid there, his eyes staring straight ahead looking at nothing. Draco couldn't believe the way he hadn't even struggled when Draco had smothered him. That was the hardest thing to think about, the way he had simply…stopped. Draco came to a stop outside the Arithmancy classroom and shuddered. "Here we go," he whispered to himself and he opened the door.

Professor Vector was in the middle of her lecture. Draco heard her say the words, "…quantum transformations," before she saw him and came to an abrupt halt. There was a murmur of confusion from the class. They didn't understand what had derailed the normally implacable Vector. Draco started to count, waiting for the full blast of it to hit him. He hadn't got to three when, nearly as one person, the students turned and saw him. There was a burst of whispers, he even heard one or two startled shrieks as he felt fifteen pairs of eyes lock on and bore into him. He fought to stop himself blushing in embarrassment and kept his eyes fixed on the Professor.

When nothing happened, he cleared his throat and searched for something to say. The murmur from the class started to gain volume as he spoke. "I'm…sorry to disturb the class Professor, but I eh, seem to be a little late." He put on a false smile.

Vector looked as though he had just slapped her. Her mouth hung open in astonishment. "Mr. Malfoy," said the Professor in a strained voice that was all but a whisper. Draco's eyes slid closed for a moment but he bit his tongue. Vector seemed to have lost the power of speech again. "Yes," she said at last, "yes…s…sit down." She nodded to an empty seat. Draco sat down, wanting to get out of the spotlight. It didn't do much good, however. Every eye followed him, the whole class continued to stare, including the Professor. Draco glared at a couple of them as hard as he could until they caught on and looked away. "Right," said the Professor, coming to her senses at last. "Where was I?"

Vector looked around at the class, none of which were paying attention to her and scowled. The Professor tapped her wand on the lectern forcefully. Gradually, the class turned away from Draco and faced forward, all but one. Draco noticed that Hermione hadn't turned away from him. She was sitting in the front row with an odd expression, somewhere between surprise and relief. Her honey-brown eyes were wide as she stared at him. Despite the fact that he was still feeling very much in the spotlight and not comfortable in the least, Draco found that he didn't mind Hermione staring at him at all. She could look at him all day if she wanted to. Vector didn't share Draco's feelings, however, she clucked her tongue harshly when she noticed that Hermione wasn't paying attention.

"Miss Granger, do you not feel that the exploration of N-th degree astro-mathics is worthy of your attention?"

Hermione jumped and spun round, taking her lovely eyes with her. "Sorry Professor," she said quietly and hung her head slightly in embarrassment. Even from behind, Draco could tell she was blushing violently. He grinned and turned his attention to the Professor. He was instantly lost as to what she was talking about, joining in the middle of the lecture probably didn't help. Hermione had been right, he was way behind. As he listened to her drone on, his head started to hurt with the effort of ignoring the sly, corner of the eye looks he was getting from the students around him. He noticed Hermione sitting rigid in the front seat and allowed himself to half think that she was fighting the urge to turn round again. The thought made him smile. It almost made the rest of the class bearable.

Finally it was over. Ten minutes before the bell, Vector wrapped up her lecture and opened up the floor for Q and A. Nobody asked a question, though Draco had the impression that there were one or two things they would like to ask, just nothing relevant to the class. Vector seemed to accept that they didn't ask her anything to mean that they had understood the lecture. She beamed at them for a moment, excused them from homework and then, with a sideways glance at Draco, she bustled out of the room.

Draco sat back and waited for the barrage to begin. One by one, the students packed up their books and left. There must have been something on his face that scared them because not a single one stopped to ask him anything. He did get a lot of searching looks from the Ravenclaws, but, he supposed, that was just their nature. Before he knew it, they had all left. Only he and Granger remained. She was packing her bag with her back turned to him. Draco stood and stooped to pick up his bag when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to see a blur of auburn hair rushing at him. Before he could register what was going on, Hermione collided with him. Draco staggered back as her arms wrapped around him and squeezed.

The sheer enjoyment of the hug had barely registered in his head when Hermione broke away. She stepped back and looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. Draco smiled as he saw her lip quiver slightly. He was about to speak when her face hardened. There was movement and the left side of Draco's face exploded in pain. The sound of the slap echoed off the walls. The force of the blow made Draco stagger before he regained his balance.

Draco looked up to see tears running down Hermione's face. She was pointing a finger at his face. "Don't…" she stammered. "Don't you…don…" But whatever it was he wasn't supposed to do she never said. Draco was about to ask her just what the hell was going on when she surged forward again. Draco tensed instinctively then instantly forgot everything in the world as she pressed her lips to his and kissed him. The sensation of her lips on his sent a flash down his spine. His knees wobbled for a moment before his body realised that his mind had gone AWOL and took over. His arms coiled around her and returned the kiss, gently teasing her mouth open so he could savour the exquisite flavour of her that so intoxicated him.

The kiss might have lasted for an hour or a minute, Draco couldn't be sure. He wasn't aware of anything in the world that wasn't part of her mouth. He squeezed her harder and deepened the kiss further. How could he have gone so long and never known what this was like? Five years? Had he even been alive before?

All too soon, Hermione pulled free of him and backed away. Draco relaxed his grip on her as his mind restarted but didn't release her completely. He longed to kiss her again but managed not to out of an act of sheer willpower. He was expecting her to panic and bolt at any moment and didn't want to push his luck. Hermione didn't seem to want to get away from him though, in fact he felt her move slightly and settle into his arms. Draco looked at her and felt her eyes start to suck his soul in when he had a horrible thought and tensed automatically.

Picking up on the change, Hermione's lip started to quiver again. "What?" she asked quietly, barely making a sound. She seemed nervous, almost anxious.

Draco smiled. "Nothing," he said playfully, "I was just wondering…"

"Yes?" she prompted, seeming even more anxious. She looked so timid and cute at that moment that Draco felt as if he would melt on the spot.

He forced himself to tense again, just to see her reaction. "Well, I was wondering whether the pattern was going to continue."

Hermione frowned. "What pattern?"

"Well…" Draco had to force himself not to smile. "First you hugged me…then you slapped me…then you kissed me. Good, bad… good. I was just thinking whether I should be expecting a kick in the groin anytime soon?" He lost the fight and smiled wide. The look on her face was priceless. She frowned and half smiled at the same time. Draco noticed the weird way it made her nose wrinkle up. He focussed and tried to burn it into his memory. She was about to answer but Draco couldn't hold out any longer. He leaned down and covered her mouth with his once more. This time he managed to retain some sense of sanity, though it was a close thing. The taste of her filled his head and sent his mind spinning slowly toward limbo once again. He was all but ready to give in and lose himself in bliss when he tasted something else on her lips. Surprised, he pulled back to look at her. She was crying! Tears were streaming out of her eyes and covering her face. Draco licked his lips, tasting her tears on them. For one horrible moment, he thought that she was crying because he had hurt her, or that he had misread her, but that didn't make sense, she had kissed him.

"Hey," he said softly, lifting his left hand and gently wiping at her face with the tip of one finger. "What is it?"

Hermione shook her head and a huge sob went through her. "I don't know," she whimpered, "I was so worried about…I mean I went to your room last night and saw…"

Draco caught on. She had seen the state of his room and thought…well, who could say what she thought, but, given what she had seen, it couldn't have been good. "Oh," he said, painting a reassuring smile on his face, "sorry…that was…oh it doesn't matter. I didn't mean to scare you, though."

Hermione continued to sob and sniff. "It isn't just that…it's…everything…I don't kn…know…I…" She was babbling. If she hadn't been so upset, Draco would have thought it was adorable but as it was…

"Shhhh" he said, pulling her to him and holding her as tightly as he dared. Hermione buried her face in his neck and continued to sob. She seemed to be letting out all her pent up fear and pain in one go, and boy was there a lot of pain in her. Draco had no idea that she was so upset inside. He had no clue as to what he could say to help her so he said nothing at all. He just stood there holding her in his arms and praying that he was helping her somehow.

Draco lost track of how long they stood there, but it was a long time. Gradually, painfully slowly, Hermione's sobs slowed and she calmed down. Draco started to slowly stroke her back in an attempt to soothe her further. At last she stopped crying and pulled back. "Sorry about that," she said as she wiped her eyes clumsily. "I don't know what came over me I…"

"Don't worry about it," Draco said, smiling at her. Hermione looked at him with those amazing eyes, made no less mesmerising by being red and puffy. Her lip trembled and Draco thought for a second that she might cry again. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him again, just for a second.

"Thank you," she whispered after their lips parted.

Draco frowned. "For what exactly?"

Hermione shrugged slightly. "I don't know," she said. "Just for being here I suppose, and," she laughed, "and putting up with me. I think…think I needed someone to…"

"Hold you?" Draco finished for her. Hermione nodded, Draco smiled. He couldn't think of a single thing right now that he would rather do. "Anytime!" he said. Hermione blushed at that point, something that Draco found completely ridiculous and absolutely perfect at the same time.

"I might just take you up on that," she said, blushing harder as if she hadn't realised what she was saying. Her eyes darted away from his rapidly and came to rest on the top of his head. "Hey, your hair?" she said inquisitively, running her fingers through it gently.

The sensation made Draco shiver. "I was wondering when someone would notice," he said in a cheeky voice when he had gotten himself under control again.

Hermione smiled.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The bell rang to signal the end of lunch. The sound shattered the moment. Both of them jumped and seemed to realise that they were standing in each others arms, sharing a tender moment, in a classroom that would shortly fill with students. Hermione stepped back and shook her head, "I guess we missed lunch," she said.

Draco smirked at her attempt to start a normal conversation. "I wasn't hungry anyway," he lied. Thinking about it, he was famished. He hadn't eaten since supper the night before – and it had been a long night. Draco arrested his mind as it started to relive the previous night. He turned his attention to more immediate matters: where the hell was he going now? Did he have another class?

"What?" said Hermione, looking at him with a worried expression.

Draco realised he was frowning. "Oh," he said, relaxing his face, "I was just wondering what class I had next that's all."

Hermione nodded then leaned her head to the side as she thought. "None, I think," she said, "I don't anyway…the only N.E.W.T. classes on Friday afternoons are Divination and…Muggle Studies, I think. You don't do either of those." It was a statement, not a question.

Draco smirked. "You sound awfully sure of that, Hermione," he said jokily. "How do you suddenly know my timetable better than I do?"

"Simple." Hermione shrugged. She dug into her bag which she had retrieved from her desk and pulled a small book out. She tossed it to him. "Making that helped."

Draco examined the book. He saw instantly that it was the study journal Hermione had promised to make him, the one that was supposed to help him catch up in his classes. Merlin that was fast, she had only said she'd make the thing last night. Draco flipped through the book. Page after page of colour coded blocks, each one devoted to a different subject: Blue for Transfiguration, Green for Potions, Red for Charms, etc. There seemed to be an awful lot of them. "Hang on," he said in a slightly alarmed way. "You haven't left anything out have you?" He looked up at her. "Like sleep, maybe?"

Hermione frowned. "You sleep at night, Draco," she said bossily, "and you have an awful lot of work to do if you want to catch up. I didn't realise just how much until I went through my notes. Take Potions for example…" Her voice was picking up speed. Draco got the impression that she was building up for a full scale tirade.

He raised his hands in surrender. "OK, I get it." He sighed and looked at the journal again. "Where do I start?" he said in a flat tone.

"The beginning, silly," said Hermione, "where else?" She reached out and snatched the book, opened it at the first page of coloured blocks and showed it to him. "I put Charms first thing. I usually start with Charms, it gets your mind worked up for the other subjects. Arithmancy is next, it's a tougher subject and takes a lot of work so it's best to get it over with before you are too tired."

Draco laid a hand on her shoulder, making her jump. "I think I get the picture," he said. "Well," he took the book from her, "I had better get started, I suppose."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, you probably should." Draco bent to pick up his bag. "Erm," said Hermione, chewing her lip nervously. "You em…want some help?"

Draco smiled. "I think I need help," he said, laughing inside his head at the double meaning that he was sure Hermione wouldn't get. "But we can't stay here," he said as the second bell rang, signalling that classes were about to begin, "we'd best find somewhere quiet, don't you think?"

Hermione nodded and lifted her bag. Draco opened the door and gestured for her to take the lead. Outside, there was a second year class waiting for Professor Vector to arrive. Just as Draco expected, they fell silent and stared the second they saw him. Hermione paused and looked at him with an expression of sympathy. Draco just shook his head and tried to ignore them. "Where to?" he asked Hermione in the brightest voice he could muster.

"Prefects' Common Room?" suggested Hermione.

Draco thought about it, there were bound to be some of the Prefects in there, but he couldn't avoid them forever. "Fine," he said, walking past Hermione. He wanted to spend as little time in the public eye as he could. "Let's go," he finished over his shoulder.

_A/N: Well, he's out…at last. I know how some of you feel, I have felt like screaming at him many a time – yes I am THAT crazy, I did come up with this thing after all._

_There are a few of you out there that are apparently desperate for answers, I won't bother repeating the question –growl- but really, do you want me to just tell you flat out? Nah, that's boring. Rest assured there is a reason for EVERYTHING that happens, there are answers but so far nobody has seemed to ask the right questions! :P Seriously though, in my head there is a whole back story that is running the show – Etean is real, he talks to me. Oh wait, that's crazy isn't it?_

_You may have noticed that the updates are getting longer. The last two (this one and the previous) have been like a third longer than any others so far. The reason is that I have the remainder of this thing (monster, beast, tome?) planned out but the damned thing keeps growing as I see the gaps I need to fill. I'm running just to keep up with my own head!!! So be patient, we WILL get there._

_I'm outta here for now guys!_

_Peace, and thanks to all reviewers and to Raela Koira for beta(comma)-ing :P this beast, love ya!_


	41. The Grey Raven

Stephen Whatley, seventh year Ravenclaw Prefect, took two steps inside the door of the Prefects' Common Room, saw Draco and jumped. Within a second, he had remembered some incredibly important thing he had to do elsewhere, apologised for intruding and all but ran out the door. It was ridiculous, he actually apologised! On a normal day, Draco would have found it odd or even amusing, but on the day it was, and the fact that Stephen had been the fifth prefect to do it, made it really annoying. That was it; he had had enough. He stood up, took out his wand, crossed to the door and locked it. Draco turned round to see Hermione staring at him with a look of confusion on her face. He got the impression that she was misreading his intentions. He smiled.

"Now," he said, "that's better."

Hermione's face blanched in shock. "Is it?"

"Yes." Draco crossed over to the table that was still just about visible beneath all of their books and parchment scrolls. Hermione sat up straight and eyed him warily, a fact that only made his grin broaden.

"Why?" she asked him nervously.

"Ohh, I don't know…" Draco let his voice fade out as he walked around the table slowly to stand beside her. Hermione looked up at him wide eyed; he could almost see her tense in expectation of whatever he was about to do to her. 'This is going to be fun!' he thought as he reached down slowly. "It makes it easier to…" His fingers passed within an inch of her face. Draco paused for half a heartbeat and then moved rapidly to grab the stack of Arithmancy notes from in front of her, "get some work done!" Draco stepped back and turned away so she wouldn't see him grinning so wide he felt as if his face would split in two. He exhaled a deep breath and managed to school his features before turning round and sitting down again. He waited for a five count before looking at her. She was wearing an expression of surprise, and, he could just about make out, disappointment. He flashed a grin at her. "You have a dirty mind, Granger. Do you know that?"

Hermione snapped out of it when she heard the question. "I do not," she said indignantly, though she was blushing furiously, "and my name is, Hermione, remember?"

Draco nodded. "I remember," he smiled again, "and if you don't have a dirty mind, do you mind telling me what you thought I was going to do just now?" He leaned forward and strummed his fingers on his chin inquisitively. Hermione struggled to come up with an answer for several moments, then turned her face away and stared at the table. Draco laughed. "I thought so, little miss Hermione is having some wicked little ideas, methinks," he said with an air of triumph. Hermione didn't seem to appreciate the joke. She just sat there, staring at the tabletop and wringing her fingers together nervously. 'Fuck!' Draco dropped the notes he had borrowed from her and laid a hand on top of hers. "It was just a joke, Hermione," he said quietly, remembering how upset she had been earlier, "I was only teasing you."

Hermione didn't look up or respond in any way. Draco felt a lump form in his throat. 'Shit, please don't start to cry again.' He shuffled his chair toward her. "Hey," he said as he looped his arm around her shoulder. "Really, I was only playing around." He tried to reassure her. Hermione didn't move; he couldn't see her face but he imagined she was crying again and that hurt him.

Then, all of a sudden, her head spun round. "BOO!" she roared in his face before exploding with laughter. Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. He tried to stand up but his feet slipped from under him and he fell back over his chair. To make matters worse, Draco's arm was still around Hermione's shoulder. Her laughter became a frightened yelp as she was pulled out of her chair and onto the ground along with him. They landed with a thud, one on top of the other. Draco's head bounced off the wooden floor hard, but, before the pain of the impact had even registered, he felt another pain explode in his jaw as her forehead collided with his chin. The impact caused him to bite down hard on his lower lip. There was an instant flash of the unmistakable taste of blood in his mouth. Hermione recovered first. She lifted herself up off him and hissed as she rubbed her forehead.

"Thanks for that," she grumbled.

Draco fought the urge to spit the blood out of his mouth before he answered. "You're welcome, I'm sure."

Hermione looked down at him and paled. "You're bleeding."

"No?" said Draco sarcastically, wiping at his mouth. "Really?"

Hermione scowled and disentangled herself from him. "Serves you right," she said in a huffy voice, "for casting aspersions on my morality." She stood up and started to brush herself off.

Draco sat up and rubbed at the sore spot on the back of his head. "My head is really sore, Hermione," he said, wincing in pain, "so could you please translate that?"

"It means," Hermione extended her left hand to him, "that you insulted me."

Draco took her hand and clambered to his feet. "Is that what I did?" he asked, moving closer to her and wrapping his arms around her.

"Yes," she said, pushing him away and stepping back. She dug about in her bag for a moment then tossed him a tissue. "For your mouth," she said on seeing his confused expression.

Draco dabbed at his lip. "Ouch!" he hissed as it stung him. "The next time I insult you, can you just yell at me or something instead of resorting to violence?"

Hermione laughed and walked back over to him. "I didn't resort to violence, Draco, it was your own fault that you got hurt." She paused, her lip twisted into a wicked little smile. "Oh, and if there is a 'next time,' you had better hope I don't resort to violence." She was joking, Draco was sure she was joking, but then, was she?

"Erm…"

"Shhh," she took the tissue and wiped his mouth free of blood, seeming to pay no attention to his winces. "There, that's better," she said as she finished and tossed the bloodied tissue away.

"Is i…" was all Draco managed to say before her mouth closed over his. His injured lip gave out at the sudden pressure, but Draco ignored it. He let his eyes slide closed as his arms wrapped around her. 'Damn, this girl is unpredictable' he thought as his mind switched off. 'Trying to keep up with her is a full time job.' Hermione broke the kiss. Draco was half afraid to say anything for a moment, then he swallowed. "What was that for?"

"I thought you'd suffered enough," said Hermione through a smile. She let him go and stepped back to the table. "Now, where were we?" Her mind went off on yet another tangent.

Draco shook his head and stopped trying to guess what was going to happen next. Going along for the ride, he supposed, would be more fun. "Somewhere in the middle of Arithmancy, I think," he said, sitting down and opening his notes again.

Hermione skipped through the textbook and stopped on a specific page. "Right," she said. "Quantum Variables!"

With that she launched into a full scale lecture. Her tone and manner were precisely the same as any of the teachers', but, to Draco's surprise, he found that it wasn't anything like listening to Vector or any of the others. Draco marvelled as Hermione talked on and on, hardly bothering to refer to the text, never seeming to tire: she hardly even seemed to pause for breath. Draco listened intently as she spoke and even found himself making notes as time passed.

Hermione continued to talk for over an hour before they were interrupted by a loud banging on the door. The suddenness of the sound made them both jump. Hermione looked over at the door and frowned. "What the hell?" she asked.

Draco was confused too for a moment until he remembered locking the door. "Someone's trying to get in, I suppose." He shrugged.

Hermione glared at him. "Well, hadn't you better open the door then?"

Draco thought about it, but then remembered why he had locked it in the first place. "No, not really."

"Why not?"

"Because," he sighed, "It's probably just some random idiot who's heard that Draco Mal…that I'm back from my little holiday and has come here to gawp." He turned and flipped idly through the pages of notes in front of him.

"They don't want to gawp at you, Draco," said Hermione, taking hold of his hand. "Besides, they might not even know that you're in here."

"Come off it, Hermione," said Draco. "The whole bloody school knows by now."

"Well…maybe, but we can't just leave the door locked, this room isn't ours to commandeer you know."

"Who says? It's not like we're hurting anyone, are we? We're working and we need some peace and quiet."

The door rattled again. Hermione looked over at it and then back to Draco. She really didn't look happy about the idea but in the end she nodded. "Ok then, but we had better get back to work or we'll be here all night." She scanned the page before her and chewed on her lip briefly. "I think we should have enough covered to attempt the essay now."

Draco frowned. "Essay?"

"Yes, the summary of chapters three and four, remember?"

Draco didn't remember. Hermione scowled and pointed out a specific coloured block in the study journal. It was labelled:

'_EsAgt__: SumAriTxt CH3-4_'

"Right," Draco said, frowning. "I see. What is that? Some sort of code?"

Hermione scoffed. "It's shorthand, Draco, saves time, but it's simple. Es is short for essay, Agt, assignment and SumAriTxt means Summarise Arithmancy Text."

Draco nodded. "Oh! Do you make all your notes like that?"

"No," she said. "Only the rapid revision ones I make just before exams. I find that they help me remember a lot of things in a short amount of time," she paused and picked up Draco's notes, the ones he had made during her lecture. Hermione read over them in silence, occasionally mouthing a word or phrase. "Ok," she said, setting the notes in front of him. "You can use these, just lay out the points you have made and expand on them. Try to put them into your own words so that they make sense."

Draco looked at his notes again and nodded. He didn't see the point in doing an essay that was due over a fortnight ago, but he got the impression that Hermione might simply explode if he tried to argue the point. There was nothing else for it so he picked up his quill and started to write.

-

BAM!

The door of the Slytherin Common Room slammed shut so hard that Etean was surprised that it remained on its hinges at all. He looked up to see Pansy storm over to the fireplace and hurl herself into her usual chair. Regal turned on his perch on the arm of Etean's chair to look at her. He clucked his beak and ruffled his feathers in annoyance at the scowl on her face. Etean smiled as he reached up to stroke his head.

"Yes, Boy," he said in a voice just loud enough for Pansy to overhear him, "Somebody really isn't in a good mood today."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Pansy snarled, glaring at him.

Etean smiled. "I thought it was pretty self explanatory, Parkinson. What the hell has got up your nose this time?"

"None of your business, Etean!" she snapped, turning back to the fire. Etean knew full well what was wrong with her; her thoughts were coming through so clearly that it was all he could do not to let them overwhelm him. Someone had told her that Draco was back in the school and she had just spent the last hour hunting for him with no success. Etean wondered for a moment just where Draco had gotten to. He focussed his thoughts and sifted through the torrent of noise in the Ether until he found Draco's pattern. The image of the Prefects' Common Room floated into his mind. He saw a page covered in somewhat untidy handwriting, a pile of badly stacked books and…Granger! Etean snapped back from the contact, shattering the image. He ground his teeth in annoyance. He should have seen it coming. So, Draco was all alone in the Prefects' room with Little Miss Perfect, was he? Etean had to bite back a snarl of anger before he managed to shut that part of his mind off. Regal's head snapped round and he bit Etean's thumb.

"Ah!" Etean hissed. Regal merely ruffled his feathers at him. Etean realised that he must have rubbed Regal a little harder than was his intention, the bird was merely exacting revenge. Etean shook his hand. "Sorry boy," he said, silently conjuring a tiny treat for him by way of an apology. Regal eyed the scrap of meat for a moment before lunging out and snatching it, apology accepted.

Etean checked his watch, it was heading for four in the afternoon and classes would be over soon. He had arranged to meet Ginny in the Entrance Hall in about five minutes, which meant he would be late. Swearing under his breath, he stood up and held out his arm to pick Regal up. Pansy looked as if she was going to say something to him as he passed, but she apparently changed her mind, preferring to continue to stare at the fire. Somewhere deep inside Etean was a small thing that felt sorry for her. Whatever else was going on in her baffling mind, she really seemed to care about Draco, in her own way at least. Etean wondered how she was going to react when she learned about Draco and Hermione. Not well, would be the tamest way to say it, not well at all.

But that was Draco's problem, not his. If Draco wanted Granger he could have her, but he was going to have to take everything that went with her as well. Etean paused at the base of the dungeon stairs. It occurred to him that Draco had absolutely no idea just how much of a shit he was letting himself in for. That could be a problem! Maybe Draco had enough on his plate as it was. Maybe he didn't need her to worry about along with everything else. Etean considered altering the situation. It wouldn't take much, just a little neural nudge and she'd drop out of his mind entirely.

"No," Etean sighed. He couldn't do that to him. Draco had earned the right to have his own mind and make his own choices, even if they did lead him to mistakes.

Etean had been right: he was late. Ginny was waiting for him in the Entrance Hall.

"You're late!" she scolded, though the grin on her face eliminated any hint of seriousness in her voice.

Etean raised his hand to his heart. "My sincerest apologies," he said in a joking tone. "I was inexplicably delayed by a most interesting phenomenon."

"Really?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows in curiosity. "And just what phenomenon was that?"

Etean looped his left arm through hers and started to steer her toward the door. "I'll tell you," he said, "as soon as I can think of something sufficiently interesting, that is."

Ginny laughed and slapped him. Regal shifted and dug his claws in, making Etean wince. "So," Ginny said, ignoring his discomfort, "where are we going?"

Etean scowled at Regal for a moment, then turned back to Ginny. "Outside, I feel like some fresh air, and I thought I'd let Regal stretch his wings for a bit. He gets very irritable if he's cooped up for too long." 'He's not the only one!' he added to himself. They exited the castle and Etean released Regal. Together, they strolled slowly across the muddy lawns toward the edge of the lake. A chill wind washed over them as Etean watched Regal soar across the sky. The sensation invigorated him. Unlike most people in his experience, Etean actually enjoyed the feel of a chill wind: it opened his senses and made him feel more alive in a way he couldn't really explain. Ginny didn't seem to share his feelings. She shivered and stopped in her tracks.

"It's freezing out here," she mumbled as she bundled herself up and moved closer to Etean. He smiled and draped his cloak around her. Circle cloaks were not designed to be warm. Wrapping it around her was really just an excuse to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. Etean drew Ginny around in front of him and rested his chin on her head as he watched the tiny black dot that was Regal soaring high over the forest. He smiled as he heard the faint echo of Regal screeching on the wind.

"Can I ask you something?" Ginny asked.

Etean was miles away, watching Regal soar. Ginny's question dragged him back to earth, "Go on then," he said, "ask."

"Why do people call you Etean?"

"It's my name," said Etean, smiling.

"I know that," Ginny laughed, "But I meant, why don't you like people to call you by your first name?"

"Oh," said Etean, releasing Ginny and taking her hand to lead her toward a large clump of boulders, "that." He turned and sat on one of the stones. Ginny dropped into his lap and pulled his cloak about her again. Etean shrugged, "I just prefer it the other way, that's all."

"But why? Don't you like your name?"

"I like it fine," Etean adjusted his position to make himself more comfortable, "it's just…"

"Just?"

"Well, it's hard to explain," he sighed. Etean's mind started to bubble and toil, conjuring up a twisted, convoluted story to spin for her but he stopped himself. Ginny was staring at him with a look of genuine curiosity and it occurred to Etean that he didn't actually want to lie to her. "It started when I was young," the first sentence came out of nowhere. Resorting to the truth was something that Etean did so rarely it seemed, that it surprised even him. "You see," he carried on with barely a noticeable pause, "I never had many friends growing up. I was always surrounded by servants, guards and the like. Not one of them ever called me Robert, never. To anyone but my father, I was '_Master_ Robert'," he emphasised the word to show his disdain for it. "I hated that stupid title. I wasn't anyone's master, and nor did I want to be to tell you the truth, but they called me it all the same. It was the proper way to refer to me after all, but, over time it became more than that."

Ginny frowned, "I don't understand."

"Imagine you are a kid growing up, and every day, everyone you meet addresses you as Master. They smile, nod, and even bow on occasion and they are always, always on guard around you, afraid to do or say the wrong thing in case you take offence," he let a frustrated growl escape from his throat, "That was my world, my life for as far back as I can remember has always had an air of…formality about it I suppose. My world and the relationships I had were defined by that formality. Over time it became as though there was a barrier surrounding me…sort of a wall, insulating me from the world."

"That must have been lonely," said Ginny, putting her arm around him as though to comfort him.

Etean shrugged, "Maybe, but I got used to it. In the end, I actually grew to like it. It made life…simpler somehow. It meant that I never really had to deal with people or any of their stupid nonsense. 'Master Robert' had to smile and bow and make pleasant conversation with simpering morons on practically a daily basis, but I didn't have to bother. I was free to think and be whatever I wanted to be and it never mattered, people only ever saw him."

Ginny nodded, "And now that you aren't 'Master Robert' anymore?"

Etean smiled, "I just traded 'Master Robert' for 'Lord Etean', and one wall replaced another. The new one did the same job as the old one, but it also had more to deal with. Even more is expected of Lord Etean than was of Master Robert," he grinned, "Lord Etean has a lot more to hide, so the wall is even higher now."

"And where does Etean fit in to all of this?"

"Etean?" Etean smiled, "He's the wall within the wall, the face I show at those times when Lord Etean doesn't fit. Etean is different but he's the same, just another layer of insulation."

Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly, "And…what's inside that wall?"

'Good question,' Etean shrugged, "I don't know," then he smiled, "it's been a while since I checked."

A touch of concern crossed Ginny's face, "So you just…exist behind your wall…hiding from the world?"

"I wouldn't call it hiding, not really. I'm just…accustomed to keeping the world at arms length."

Ginny paused, Etean could see the next question coming a mile away, "And…me? Are you still keeping me at arms length…Robert? Or am I allowed inside the wall?"

Etean looked into her eyes as she stared back with a hint of nervousness, "Do you want to be? You might not like what you find in here."

Ginny lifted her hand and stroked the side of his face, "I think I will," she leaned forward and kissed him gently. Etean folded his arms around her and returned the kiss just as gently.

A sudden shrill shriek split the air. They both spun to see Regal banking low over the surface of the lake, skimming the waves. "Someone's enjoying himself!" said Ginny brightly.

Etean shook his head, "He's a bird and he's flying…not exactly a challenge for him is it?"

Ginny turned back and smiled at him "No, I guess not." They kissed again, Etean delighted in not having a single thing to worry about outside of the two of them for those few, precious moments. The wind picked up again, sending a cold shiver through Ginny. Etean tightened his hold on her and deepened the kiss. Then he felt her!

It was Etean's turn to shiver as he broke the kiss, but it was shock, rather than the cold that was the cause. He looked round, tightening his senses to track her down. What the hell was she doing here? His eyes settled on a small birch tree at the edge of the forest. Regal was perched on a low branch, preening himself and beside him was a staggeringly familiar, slate grey raven. Etean frowned when he saw her sitting there, staring at him.

"Oooh, Regal's got himself a little friend," Ginny cooed.

Etean forced his mind to restart, "Apparently," he said. "Let's head in," he added, turning his back, "It is a bit cold out here." Etean draped his arm over Ginny's shoulder. She allowed him to lead her up the slope to the castle. As they were climbing the steps, Etean focussed on the raven behind him and imagined the journey from the entrance of the castle to the Training Room. He sent it to her as a rapid burst, trusting that she would get the message. If she was here, then there had better be a reason, and it had better be a good one. He looked down at Ginny walking beside him. She had seen her, which meant this was going to get complicated.

-

Draco hissed under his breath and dropped his quill. Hermione watched it drip ink onto the surface of the parchment. She frowned and looked up at him,

"What is it?" she asked.

Draco flexed his wrist and then shook it hard, "My wrist is sore," he hissed, "I guess I'm still not used to writing left handed."

'Left handed?' Hermione thought, but then remembered, "Oh," she said, "how…how is your hand?"

"Not all that good," said Draco. He held his right hand up and slowly clenched a fist. "Getting better though," he added as he just as slowly unclenched it. "I can use it, just not quickly or well enough for most practical purposes." He lowered his hand and smiled, "But, on the bright side," he lifted his left hand and worked it in a rapid circle, "I have learned to do most things with my left hand."

Perhaps it was the playful way he said 'most things' or maybe it was the fact that learning to use your left hand didn't sound much like a bright side to anything, but Hermione felt the urge to kiss him again. 'It might make him feel better,' she thought, followed immediately by, 'What the hell am I thinking? Get a hold of yourself Hermione.'

She shook her head and tried to return her attention to her own work. She started to flip through the pages of her Arithmancy text, pausing to scowl at her hand. A strange tingling sensation in her fingers dulled the sensation of touching things. It almost felt as if she was wearing gloves. She shook her head, her hand was just asleep, that was all. Hermione closed her Arithmancy book and, clumsily, she tried to lift her charms book. The tingle in her fingers grew worse however, and she dropped it.

"Careful," Draco grumbled as the book missed his hand by half an inch, "hey, what's this?" he asked, picking up a scrap of parchment that had fallen out of the book when it landed.

Hermione recognised it instantly as a drawing she had made during the last Charms lesson. "Oh," she said quickly, trying to snatch it back, "that's nothing…just an idle doodle."

Draco held the drawing up to the light so he could see it better, "Is this the wolf from your dream?" he asked.

"Sort of," Hermione answered. Draco frowned, Hermione realised that he was staring at it very hard, "What?" she asked, sounding nervous.

Draco shook his head and looked up at her, "Oh," he handed it back to her, "No…I just thought I recognised it is all."

"You recognised it?" said Hermione, suddenly excited, "From where? Does it mean anything? Where did you see it?"

The questions poured rapidly out of her mouth. Draco shook his head and waved her down, "Easy…easy…I don't know where I saw it, or what it means, I just…its familiar somehow that's all, but I can't place it."

"Oh," Hermione sighed, disappointed. For a moment she thought she was about to get something, a clue about what was going on in her head. She tried to think of something else, anything else. She failed. Instead, she simply stared blankly at the page in front of her. Draco hissed in discomfort again. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see him working his wrist in circles. Draco hissed again and picked up his quill again. He instantly dropped it however and snarled in discomfort as he shook his hand rapidly, "Right," he grumbled, "time for a break." He raised his hand to his mouth and used his teeth to pull his glove free. He flexed his wrist and then started to rub it clumsily with his right hand, grimacing in pain. When he noticed her staring at him, he moved his hands down out of sight below the table. Hermione got the impression that he didn't want her to stare at his hand, which was, she realised at last, exactly what she had been doing. She blushed and fought for something else to occupy her attention. Her eyes settled on his essay. She reached out to pick up the scroll but stopped short. Her hand was shaking.

Hermione stared at her fingers as they twitched feverishly in the air. Her hand felt strange, almost like it was asleep. She concentrated, willing her fingers to stay still, but they wouldn't. A sudden wave of panic shot through her as she realised that her hand was beyond her control. In desperation she tried to close a fist, but it just didn't seem to be happening. Her mind flailed, 'What the hell is going on? A fist, close a fist…how hard can that be?' Her fingers continued to twitch before her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Draco's voice came out of nowhere. The sound made her start.

"My hand…I don't…I can't…" she stammered.

Hermione concentrated with all her might and tried to get her hand to obey, but it still didn't work. Draco reached out, instinctively she pulled away but he was too quick for her. He caught her hand and held it. Hermione could only just feel his touch as he started to slowly massage her palm and fingers. Gradually the feeling started to return as the twitching subsided. The odd sensation faded back to a slight tingle in her fingertips, her hand felt as though it was back to normal, but Draco continued to massage it. Hermione shut her eyes as she relished in the sensation of his hand on hers.

"Is that better?" Draco asked in a tone that suggested that he knew full well that it was. Hermione found that she couldn't answer except by nodding. Draco continued to rub her fingers, Hermione found them instinctively looping and tangling up with his. She looked into his eyes and smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

Draco grinned and released her hand, "Glad to be of service."

Hermione looked down at her hand again. Her fingertips were still tingling as though they were asleep, but at least she could move them now. She must have looked funny or something because Draco laughed. She felt her face explode with red fire as he stood up and walked around to stand behind her. She shivered as his fingers traced a line up her arm and across her neck. Hermione rolled her head and let out an involuntary little moan as his grip tightened and he started to massage her neck. It wasn't until that moment that she realised how stiff it was. Draco seemed to know what he was doing, even one handed, his fingers seemed to locate all of the knots in her muscles and tease them out. Hermione tried to relax, wanted to relax but she couldn't. Her heart was racing and her every breath caught in her throat. She shut her eyes and willed her body to calm down.

"WE CAN SEE YOU!"

The voice came out of nowhere and echoed inside her head. Hermione sat bolt upright. Her eyes slammed open and she felt as though she might just pass out in fright.

"What's wrong?" Draco sounded worried, "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"What?" Hermione said through ragged breaths, she looked up, wide eyed as Draco came from behind her and knelt down, "No," she remembered to answer him at last, "you didn't…sorry."

"What then?" he asked, frowning.

Hermione shut her eyes as she fought for an explanation that would make sense. Her mind struggled to come up with another lie, another excuse to hide what was going on in her head. 'Tell him!' her own voice sounded in her ears. She opened her eyes again and looked into his. The candlelight reflected off his eyes made them seem to sparkle. She felt his gaze steady her mind, "I heard something," she said quietly, fighting the urge to break down, "A voice in my head." She shut her eyes and shook her head, "But it wasn't real…it was…from a dream."

"A dream? You mean that one you had with the wolf?"

"No," she said, "Well…yes, sort of. It's a long story," she sighed.

Draco reached up and ran his finger down her cheek, "I got time," he said with a tiny smile.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked into his eyes again, "Ok then," she said and then she started to talk. She told him everything, every detail she could remember about her dreams, the corridor, the mountain top and the eyes! When she finished, there was a heavy silence in the air between them. Finally Hermione couldn't bear to look at him anymore, she turned away and stared at the tabletop, not pretending to be upset this time, "Crazy huh?" she asked him in a tiny, choked up voice.

"Eyes in the dark?" he said slowly, "Staring at you?" She nodded. "Well," Draco sighed, "I have to admit it…you're nuts!"

Hermione spun her head to look at him. Draco simply stared back from behind his twinkling silver eyes. He held his stare for a full ten seconds before his face cracked into a grin and he started to laugh. Hermione released the breath she had been holding and then to her utter astonishment, she started to laugh along with him. They laughed on and on, Hermione felt all the fear and tension pour out of her with each passing moment. Part of her head was screaming at her, reminding her that this wasn't funny, that it was a real problem and that it really scared her, but she couldn't help it. She just sat there, laughing her head off, and feeling for the first time in a long time that the fear couldn't touch her.

"There," said Draco once he had gotten hold of himself, "that's better. They're just dreams, Hermione, that's all, just silly dreams."

"No," Hermione shook her head, the laughter faded, "They're real. I can feel them, the eyes…I can feel them watching me sometimes even when I'm awake. It's as if…oh I don't know."

"What?" he asked, shuffling closer to her.

"Well…sometimes," she sighed, "it's almost like they're judging me or something." She laughed quietly, "Like I said…crazy."

"You are not crazy," said Draco sternly, "At least…no more so than the rest of us."

"But then why am I…" but she never finished the sentence.

Draco took hold of her hand and squeezed, "Listen to me," he said in a quiet whisper, "there is something wrong, something…weird going on inside that head of yours. I don't see any reason to lie to you and to pretend otherwise and I'll be honest, I have absolutely no idea what it is, but I promise you…_we_ will find out."

Hermione felt her lip quiver, "We?"

Draco laughed, "Why not?" he nodded toward the table, "You're helping me after all…besides," he stood up and kissed her on the forehead, "I love a good mystery."

Hermione watched as Draco returned to his seat. He picked up his quill and scanned his essay, scowling.

"Now," he said, dropping the quill again, "I don't know about you, but I'm about studied out for one night."

Hermione looked at the pages in front of her. It was still early but for once she didn't really feel like studying. Draco nodded at her and started to pack up his things. After a moment Hermione realised that she should pack up too, so she started to gather her things. They packed up in silence, Draco unlocked the door and the left.

Outside in the deserted corridor, he turned to face her, "Right," he said quite loudly, "This has been fun, but now," he glanced down the corridor with a foreboding look on his face, "I have to face the hounds of Slytherin House," he said with a scowl. Draco stared into her eyes again for a long while before he shook himself and smiled. "One for the road," he whispered and moved forward. Hermione barely had time to realise what he was going to do before he was kissing her. A tingle shot through her whole body as she looped her arms around his neck. She had barely joined her hands behind his head when Draco broke off and stepped back, "See you later," he said, and he was gone.

Hermione stood, still tingling as she watched him walk away. She felt a sudden loneliness as he slowly moved away from her. Did she miss him already? She shook her head. The practical part of Hermione's brain roared at her. What was she doing? Spending time with him was nice but was she actually contemplating a…a relationship with Draco Malfoy? She bit her lip. No, whatever it was between them wasn't like that, not yet, but that's what it could turn into and she knew it. So, was that really what she wanted? A question, something Ginny had said to her came to Hermione – "Does he make you happy?" Hermione smiled as Draco turned to wave at her before he disappeared round a corner. When she was with him, her problems seemed far away. When she was with him, she could relax. When she was with him, she was happy!

-

Draco paused for a moment in the shadows outside the Slytherin Common Room. The bare rock that hid the door glistened with moisture. He could hear the quiet dripping of water on stone somewhere in the distance. He focussed for a moment on the memory of that last kiss and steadied himself. Draco screwed up his will and took a deep breath, "Here goes," he whispered and stepped forward, "Carnivore."

Etean had told him the password and, to Draco's relief it hadn't been changed today. The last thing he wanted was to have to stand outside the door and wait for some random Slytherin to let him in. The wall slid back silently to reveal the door beyond. Draco paused and shut his eyes again for a moment before opening the door. The murmur of conversation from within greeted him as he stepped inside. Then…silence! Every single person in the room shut up as one person and turned to stare at him. Draco drew himself up to his full height and set his hands on his hips.

"Ok then!" he hissed, moving his eyes from student to student, glaring at each of them in turn, "Take a good look, all of you and get it out of your system now because I promise you," his eyes settled on a dark haired second year boy whose name he couldn't be bothered remembering, "this will be your first…and last chance. If I catch anyone staring at me from this point on, or whispering behind my back, I swear I will skin them alive!"

The boy he had chosen to victimise cowered and shrank back in fear. Draco turned his gaze to another, a girl this time, Rachel Monroe. He let his stare drill into her until she too turned away. By now the others had got the message, one by one they all turned away and pretended to return to their previous conversations. Draco hit them with one last burning glare and stormed out of the room. He passed a couple of students on the stairs but just drove past them. He wasn't sure if his will would hold much longer and he needed to leave them with the impression that he was serious about his threat. If they were afraid of him, then they'd leave him be, at least that was the theory. Draco entered his bedroom. The other beds were empty, quidditch practice, Draco assumed. Oh well, at least he would have the place to himself for a while.

He was wrong. The door behind him had barely closed when it burst open again. Draco turned just in time to see a solid ball of darkness speeding toward him. It hit, and Draco was blind. He felt arms wrapping around his neck as the force of the impact bundled him off his feet. The back of his legs encountered the end of Etean's bed and he tumbled backward still blinded by a veil of dark cloth. Draco shook his head as he landed. A strong scent filled his nostrils, a scent he knew.

"Pansy!" he mumbled through a mouthful of what turned out to be her hair. Draco scrambled to find purchase on her shoulders so he could free himself of her. Pansy seemed determined to hold on for dear life. With her robes covering his face and his mouth full of her hair, Draco was close to suffocation. "Get…off…me." He managed to take hold of her and shove her bodily off him. Pansy let out a stifled squeal as she missed the edge of the bed and tumbled over the side. Free and able to breathe at last, Draco gasped for air. When he had caught his breath he rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed. Pansy was rubbing the side of her head and staring up at him.

"What were you trying to do?" Draco growled on seeing her idiotic grin, "Smother me?"

Pansy laughed as though it was the funniest thing he could possibly have said, "I was….just happy to…see you, that's all," she giggled, "Is there something wrong with that?"

Draco fished one of her hairs from the back of his throat, "Whatever," he said, coughing, "just don't do it again."

He stood and stepped round her, brushing his robes off as he crossed over to his own bed. Draco didn't hear her move, but suddenly Pansy was behind him. He felt her arms wrapped around his waist as he lifted his bag over his head. "Sorry babe," she said in a muffled voice, her face pressed into his spine.

Draco tensed, 'Babe?' He dropped his bag and turned around, reaching down to untangle her arms. "What did you call me?"

Pansy's face fell, she stared up at him, "What?"

"What did you just call me?" Draco's voice had turned to ice.

Pansy ignored his anger, "What…Babe?" she said, reaching up to trail a finger across his chest, "I always call you Babe, Babe."

"No," Draco took hold of her shoulders, "you don't. You tried it…once…and I told you never to do it again," he lowered his eyes to her level and glared at her, "Did you forget?"

Pansy laughed, "I remember you saying something like that," she smiled demurely, "but I knew you were just joking."

"Joking?" Draco released her as he felt a surge of anger boil up from his heart and explode in his head, "I'll give you joking." He felt his fist ball and his shoulder tense. He lunged forward and was an inch from lashing out and hitting her when he stopped himself. The look in his eyes seemed to do the job for him.

Pansy's smile faded and she drew back, "Right," she said quickly, "I get it…don't call you Babe. Fine," she was out of breath as she finished.

"Good…don't forget it again." Draco turned away from her and tugged off his tie. He looked over his shoulder to see her standing there, staring at him. "Was there something else you wanted?" he asked without turning round.

"Som…something else?" said Pansy in a shocked squeal, "What kind of question is that?"

Draco turned to look at her with the coldest stare he could muster, "A genuine one, Pansy, so answer it."

Pansy's face fell, "I came here to welcome you back, Draco," she said, almost in a murmur, "You sound as though you're not pleased to see me," she finished in a sulky voice.

Draco actually found this slightly funny, "Should I be?" he asked, then seeing Pansy's expression he raised his hand, "No, don't bother…just forget I said that OK?"

Pansy smiled brightly, "OK," she said in a bewilderingly chipper tone. She turned and walked over to sit on Draco's bed. "So," she said in a somewhat more sombre tone, "do you want to talk about it?"

Draco felt the colour drain from his face, "About what?"

"About your mother…about what happened to her…"

"My mo…." Draco lost the power of speech. This girl had all the tact of a drunken goblin. He willed his mouth to work again, "No," it came out as a whisper, "I don't."

Pansy stood up and walked toward him, "But you have to, you need to let it out," she said, "you can't just keep it all bottled up inside." She raised her hand to touch his cheek, "I know you don't want to appear weak to all those idiots," she pointed at the door with her free hand, "but I'm not one of them."

Draco had to fight the urge to slap her again. He resisted and pushed the emotion aside, burying everything beneath the full weight of his will, "I said," he snarled, stepping back and batting her hand away, "I don't want to talk about it, not to you, not now, not ever."

"Come on, Draco, you can't…"

"No Pansy, I can," Pansy retreated as he advanced on her, "I can do whatever I want to do. If I want to 'bottle it up', then that's _precisely_ what I will do…understand?" Pansy had backed into the pillar of the bed and now had nowhere left to go, he saw her gulp, and then she nodded quickly. "Good," Draco took a deep breath to get himself under control and stepped back, "Now if you don't mind," he pointed to the door, "I'm tired." His tone left no room for interpretation.

Pansy straightened up and nodded again, "Ok, I'll leave so you can rest then," she took half a step forward as if to kiss him goodnight, but stopped almost before she had started. Draco merely grunted at her. "Remember that I'm here," she said, "and I'll be ready to listen when you do want to talk!"

With that she spun on her heel and left, disappearing around the corner of the door with a swish of cloth. Draco stood and stared at the open doorway for a long while, he couldn't believe it, had she heard a word he had said? 'That girl really needs to learn to take a hint!' he sighed to himself as he threw himself down onto his bed.

-

Etean shut the door of the Training Room behind him and sighed. Turning round, he saw the raven sitting on the table, looking at him with its cold eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, letting his eyes flash to show her that he meant her to answer. He paused, waiting, staring at the bird's eyes until it looked away. There was a tiny hissed grunt and a ruffle of cloth as the bird grew and changed.

Vash sat on the table and ran her hand through her hair, "Pleased to see you too, Rob," she flashed him her usual, cheeky grin. "Though the welcome leaves something to be desired I must say."

Etean glared at her, "You shouldn't be here Shel, and you know it. What kind of welcome did you expect?"

Vash sniggered, "My you are the grumpy old goat aren't you?" she smiled. "What is it? Is the schoolboy uniform too tight? Or did they give you too much homework?" Vash collapsed in a fit of laughter.

Despite his annoyance, Etean was had to fight to keep himself from laughing along with her. She had always had a way of making him laugh, even when her jokes weren't funny. A smile had just about got through his defences when he saw a tiny flash of pain in her eyes, a tiny wince that she was clearly trying to hide shot through her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, stepping forward.

Vash's smile faded, "Nothing," she lied, shrugging her shoulders, "I'm…ouch!" she yelped as another wave of pain shot through her. Her hand jerked, moving an inch toward her left hip before she stopped it. It was the only clue Etean needed. Looking more closely, he saw a dark, wet stain on her robes. He stepped forward, extending his senses to examine the injury. He saw it instantly, a twisted glare in her abatile.

"What happened to you?" he asked, reaching out to examine the wound further. Vash moved to block him. She covered her hip with one hand and with the other she grabbed his wrist. Etean shook her off as gently as he could, "Settle," he ordered, "Let me take a look."

Vash relented. She sat back on the table and kept her hands by her side. Etean drew back her cloak, and then carefully opened her robes so that he could see the wound properly. He had to suppress a hiss of astonishment when he saw it. An area of her pale skin roughly the size of his palm was charred and burned black. "It won't heal," said Vash in a shaky voice.

Etean knelt to look at it more closely, silently conjuring a hovering candle to provide more light. He focussed his senses and examined it, it had healed, at least in part but, "Part of the spell is still in there," he said without looking up. The churning power of the curse was just visible in the very heart of the wound. It seemed to be burrowing deeper into her, charring and burning as it went. Etean's senses allowed him to see beneath the charred outer flesh to the muscle below. Healthy muscle tissue surrounded the wound, glowing bright red to his eyes. The muscle beneath the wound, however, was starting to turn a sickly green colour, "How long ago did this happen?" he asked, slightly worried.

"I don't know," was her answer, "Twelve…fourteen hours maybe."

"What?" he barked, "That long? What…Why didn't you go for help?"

"Where could I go?" she asked.

Etean growled under his breath, "You should have returned to the Academy. Or even to the Chateau, Dominic would have arranged for a doctor to look after you, you know that."

Vash shrugged, wincing again, "I couldn't have made it that far. The pain was too much for me to apparate and I lost my portkey…in the end, I had to transform just to avoid the pain. Once I was a bird I wasn't really able to think clearly…you know what it's like," she shook her head, "I just had to follow my instincts," she looked down at him, her eyes filled a distant sadness, "Where else would I go?" Etean nodded slowly. "Can you fix it?" she asked.

Etean returned his attention to the wound. He could fix it but it was not going to be a pleasant experience for her. "I'll see what I can do," he said, reaching out to touch her skin. Vash jumped back and hissed, "Relax," he scolded her. He needed to distract her, keep her mind off what he was doing. "Tell me how this happened."

Vash sighed, "I was doing my job," she said sarcastically, "I was sent to Coventry to examine the new Auror facility there."

"Oh yes, and what are the Aurors building in Coventry then?" Etean asked even though he new the answer. He would have to start prodding and poking about in the wound soon.

"You…AH…careful! You know full well what they're building," said Vash through clenched teeth.

"Humour me," said Etean. He looked back into her eyes, "and stop moving or I'll end up ripping your kidney out or something," he smiled.

Vash took a breath and steadied herself as he reached out to her again, "The Aurors…ssssss….are building a new Headquarters in Coventry, sort of a backup base of operations should the one in London be hit."

Etean nodded as he mentally invoked an extraction curse. The spell merely burrowed deeper into Vash's hip. 'Persistent little bastard!' Swallowing a curse, he persevered, "Sounds like a good idea, one of the few they've had so far. The facility is finished then?"

"Yes," Vash's voice trembled with restrained pain, "Looks pretty strong too, maybe even tougher than the one in London." Her voice trailed off, Etean looked up to see her staring at her hip. It didn't look all that good. If anything, his ministering had made it look worse.

"You were saying," he prompted her. She looked at him, "You were telling me about the facility in Coventry…"

"Y…yes," she said, "Well I looked around, did all that I had to do and then…"

"Yes?" Etean asked, returning his attention to the wound. He was zeroing in on the remnants of whatever curse had hit her.

"Yes, well it seemed that I wasn't the only one that was checking the place out."

"Really?" he asked as he finally managed to surround the spell and started to gently manoeuvre it outward, "Who else was there?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange!" she said quietly.

"WHAT?" Etean asked in genuine surprise. He lost his hold on the spell and it shot deeper into her. Vash roared in agony. The sudden pain carried through Etean's senses and slammed into his mind. Vash's arm made a mad swipe, searching for something to hold onto. Etean caught her hand and held it tight, "Sorry," he said, grimacing as she squeezed his fingers as hard as she could. Waves of pain rocketed through Vash again and again. She barred her teeth and fought to stop herself screaming. Etean held her hand and waited for the pain to subside. "Sorry," he repeated as she finally relaxed.

Vash punched him in the chest with her free hand, "Don't do that again, you fuck!"

Etean squeezed her hand, "I won't," he returned his gaze to the wound, "I think I nearly had it, but it's gone back in deeper now."

"Just get it done!" she hissed at him. Etean reached out harder than he had before. Vash hissed in pain and squeezed his hand but he carried on, this had to be done. His mind closed on the spell and took hold.

"Now," he said, looking her in the eye, "This is really going to hurt, Shel."

Vash looked at him, squeezed his fingers once more and nodded. Etean braced himself and concentrated on keeping hold of the spell. He took a breath and pulled. Vash let out a heart stopping scream and fell forward. Etean stood and pressed his shoulder out into her to stop her from falling flat on her face. The spell inched outward slowly, each movement causing Vash a further jolt of pain until, at last, it was out. Etean whispered a containment spell as his fingers closed around it.

Vash looked up at his hand as he held it aloft, the tiny ball of magic caged by his fingers. "That's it?" she hissed in disbelief.

Etean nodded, "Yes, this little thing." He closed his fist on it and it vanished with a tiny flash into nothing. Etean took hold of Vash's shoulder and stood up, gently lifting her back onto the table. He pulled her robes again back and set to work repairing her injury. "I take it we have Lestrange to thank for this?" he asked.

Vash nodded, "It was my fault really, I shouldn't have been anywhere near her."

"How's that?"

Vash shrugged, "I spotted her as I was getting ready to leave. I saw an opportunity and I decided to follow her."

"Decided? You mean you weren't ordered to follow her?"

"No," Vash shook her head, "But she's managed to keep under our radar for a while now, so I figured it would be good to find out what she was up to. I saw her sneaking around in the Auror facility and shadowed her."

"Simple as that was it?" Etean asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"That's what I thought anyway," Vash smiled weakly. "It certainly started that way. I tracked her through a couple of apparations, bouncing all over the country."

"Took you on a nice little ride did she?"

"Something like that," Vash shook her head. "She went to a couple of houses first and met with some people. They didn't seem to be important from what I saw, just informers or the like. After that…"

Etean looked up from her fading injury, "After that?"

Vash sighed, "She holed up in some grotty little hovel, waited until just before dawn and then went to an isolated graveyard. I watched her break into a mausoleum and then," she sighed, "I followed her in."

Etean rolled his eyes, "You didn't…please tell me I taught you better than that, Shel."

"I wanted to know what she was doing in there," said Vash hurriedly.

"You followed one of the most dangerous witches on the planet into an empty graveyard in the middle of the night, let her lead you into a small, confined space of her choosing and you're telling me you didn't sense a trap?"

"How was I to know it was a trap, Rob? How was I supposed to know that she knew I was there?"

"You would have known," said Etean wearily, "if you were trained to follow the likes of her. She's dangerous, she's vicious and she's smart. She probably knew you were there from the moment you saw her."

"How? I had my cloak!"

Etean sighed, "Being invisible doesn't guarantee that you won't be seen, Shel."

"What was I supposed to do then? Let her get away?"

"You should have reported in and told the others. They would have sent somebody else. Someone better trained for the field."

Vash drew back in indignation, "I am perfectly capable of carrying out my orders. I was just…unlucky that's all."

"This time!" said Etean. He finished healing her and pulled her robes back to cover her once more, "I don't know why they sent you to Coventry in the first place. What did Poliakov think he was playing at?"

"Lord Poliakov didn't send me. He's been…out of touch lately. I don't think he's left Geneva in a month. He's too busy getting that blasted treaty ready."

Etean's expression darkened, he had a nasty feeling, "Who sent you then?"

"The Council," she answered, avoiding his eyes.

Etean reached out with his mind and jarred her, "Who gave you the order?"

Vash made a face like she was trying desperately not to answer the question, but in the end she gave up, "Lord Menai."

Etean growled and stepped back. He felt the floor tremble beneath his feet as his mind reeled in rage, "MENAI!" he hissed.

"He was only doing what he thought was right," said Vash in an attempt to soothe him, "We needed the intelligence on the new Auror base, someone had to go."

"Someone maybe, but not you," Etean snarled, "He put you in harms way on purpose, just to get at me."

Vash didn't answer but she wanted to. Etean knew that for a fact. She knew him well enough to realise when to back off and leave him be. The floor stopped shaking as the sheer force of his anger subsided. Vash moved to stand beside him and took his hand again, "I'm alright," she whispered as she raised his hand and kissed it gently, "Thanks to you."

"You shouldn't have been hurt in the first place, Shel. He _shouldn't_ have sent you."

"I got _myself_ hurt, Rob, no one else. If I hadn't been such an idiot I would have been fine." She smiled at him.

Etean felt the last of the rage leave him, he grew calmer with every breath. "You always were an idiot!" he smiled and turned away.

"Yes," Vash sighed behind him, "I always was." There was a silence and then, "She's pretty…your new friend."

Etean stopped, his eyes slid closed, "Let's not have this conversation, Shel." He turned back to her, "Please?"

Vash smiled, "I don't want to have _any_ conversation. It was merely an observation. You do think she's pretty don't you?"

Etean sighed, 'Here we go again!' "Yes," he said quietly, "I do."

"Does she make you laugh?"

"Come on, Shel, what's the point in this?"

Vash stared at him for a while. "I would just like to know, Rob. You owe me that much at least, don't you think?"

"What does it matter if she makes me laugh?"

Vash's eyes had gone slightly red, but Etean knew she wasn't about to let him see her cry. "I need to know because it doesn't make sense. Why her and not me? What has she got that I don't?"

"Come off it, Shel," Etean turned away from her again, he couldn't bear to have this argument again. "It's nothing to do with you. I told you that."

He heard Vash walk back and sit down on the table again, "You told me," she said, "I heard the words but I don't understand, Rob, I can't. No matter how many times I try, it just makes no sense. I mean, we were happy weren't we? At least, I thought we were. One day everything was fine and then….then your dad died and suddenly everything changed. Suddenly I wasn't good enough for you anymore."

Etean spun round, "Is that…tell me that isn't what you thought, Shel, please!"

"What was I supposed to think? I mean you just dumped me and vanished. I didn't see you for three months and then when I did, I barely recognised you. Since then I…"

"I didn't dump you, Shel," said Etean walking toward her. If he had to explain this to her again, he was determined for this to be the last time. "_I_ was never with you. The Robert Etean you knew…the boy I was died the day I put this on," he held up his hand and showed her the ring. "This thing…it isn't just jewellery and it isn't just a symbol of authority either. Putting this on opened up a whole new world to me. The boy you knew learned things…he learned the truth about his life and it killed him in a heartbeat. So here I stand, all that's left. I am what I am, and I feel what I feel…" he trailed off and shook his head, "I can't explain it to you in words, Shel. Every time I try I mess it up. One thing I know is that he's gone, and he isn't coming back…he can't." Etean paused, and sighed, "I know you don't understand it, but I need to know that you can learn to accept it. Do you think you can?"

"No," she shook her head, "because you're still here. I can still see the boy I loved…the boy I will always love, even if you can't." She reached out for him but he stepped back from her. Vash left her hand hanging in the air for several seconds before she lowered it. She shut her eyes and took a breath. Etean turned his back as she started to fasten her robes again. He wasn't prepared for her to say, "She loves you."

Etean turned back to her, surprised, "No," he replied, "she doesn't."

"She's starting to," said Vash, "I saw it in her eyes. I know you see it too, Rob, so don't bother denying it."

Etean paused, "Yes," The look she was giving him nearly destroyed him, he shut his eyes again to avoid it, "I see it."

"Do you love her?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'm not sure that I can."

Vash shivered and drew her cloak about her. "Will you do something for me then, in that case?"

"What?"

"If you're going to leave her, do it now before she gets in to far over her head," she stood up and walked over to him again, "If you stay with her much longer she will grow to love you…the way I did. And then," she laid a hand on his chest, "when you leave her it will tear her apart inside. Don't do that to her…for me…please."

Etean couldn't speak. His mind retreated from her and his mask came up to take its place. Vash stepped back from him and looked at the door to the Academy, "Is that open?" she asked with a waver in her voice.

"Yes," he found his voice at last.

"Right, I suppose I should report in," she said with forced chirpiness. She lifted his hand and kissed it again before she left.


	42. The Mirror Speaks

It surprised Draco just how easy his return had been. 'Well,' he thought to himself as he strolled through the corridors on his way to dinner, 'it hasn't been easy, just easier that I thought it would be.' Draco had spent long hours and days in that closed off room dreading the sly whispers and pitied looks he was sure to receive. And receive them he had; in fact, everywhere he went. He had lost count of the times he had had to bite his tongue over the weekend as a last ditch effort to stop himself from tearing someone's head off. His temper seemed to be perched just below breaking point far more often than he was comfortable with.

One thing, just one, had made it bearable. Well, one person anyway. Spending every spare waking moment with Hermione in one quiet corner or another had left Draco with no time to brood over his problems. It almost felt as though he didn't have anything to worry about when they were alone together. It didn't matter what they were doing, studying, playing or just talking, Draco savoured every second he spent with her. He spotted her at the Gryffindor table as he entered the Great Hall and instantly felt better. It had been less than an hour since he had seen her, but it felt more like days. Draco chose an empty spot at the Slytherin table and sat down. He looked over and caught Hermione's eye and flashed her a tiny grin, which broadened significantly when he saw a tint of colour appear on her cheeks. Hermione looked away. Draco got the impression that she was trying to keep her blush under control.

Still grinning, Draco scooped up a large chunk of steak and kidney pie and loaded it onto his plate. Automatically, his eyes scanned the room around him as he chewed his first mouthful. A couple of faces turned away quickly when Draco looked in their direction, but that was all. Draco let out a quiet sigh. Maybe he was losing his gossip value at last. He hoped so, after a whole weekend of twisting one rumour about him into another, surely it was time for them to get bored and move on. They always did, something new always came along to grab their attention sooner or later. Draco just hoped it was sooner.

Draco's attention turned to the Slytherin table. He saw, with a level of satisfaction, that they weren't paying him any attention whatsoever. At least, that was how they made it appear. Draco knew that they were as curious about him as the rest of the school, but he also knew that none of them would dare ask him. A few not so subtle threats and a couple of vicious glares at any of them that so much as looked as though they were about to speak to him had seen to that. Slytherins could be counted on having one trait above all, an instinct for self preservation. It was a trait that Draco had long ago learned to utilise. Whenever he wanted them to do something, all he had to do was threaten them and they'd jump to it. That's just what they were doing, leaving him alone as ordered. All that is, except one.

"Hey, Draco," Pansy mewed as she sat beside him, making Millicent budge up to create room for her. "You're a hard guy to find, do you know that?"

"I wasn't all that aware of it, no," said Draco with a dismissive shrug. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Pansy staring at him, "What is it?" he growled, turning to face her.

"Nothing," said Pansy innocently, "I was just…admiring your hair." She giggled a little. "I really don't think it suits you."

"I don't recall asking your opinion, Pansy," said Draco with a scowl, turning away from her. A thought occurred to him. "Why were you looking for me in the first place?"

"Do I need a reason?"

Draco rolled his eyes to look at her. "It doesn't matter what you need, you _have_ a reason, Pansy."

Pansy shook her head and smirked. "Ok then, I was going to offer to help you with your Charms essay, the one Flitwick set today."

Involuntarily, Draco's eyes darted to the Gryffindor table for a second. "What makes you think I need help, Pansy?"

Pansy laughed and took hold of his hand. "Oh, don't be silly, Draco, you haven't been in class for weeks, you must be lost."

Another quick glance at Hermione. 'I have all the help I need!' Draco shook her hand off and reached for his glass of pumpkin juice. "I think I can manage, thank you," he said in a gravely tone, trying to signal the end of the conversation.

He should have known that it wouldn't work. Instead of backing off, Pansy shuffled closer and whispered in his ear. "Really?" she purred, "I don't think so. You see, I'm on to you."

Draco's head spun to look at her. "What do you mean, on to me?" he spat at her.

Pansy grinned at him. "Come on, Draco. Don't play the innocent with me. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

"Notice what?" he grumbled. "I'm not in the mood for games."

Pansy sighed. "Draco," she said in a huffy tone, "This is me you're talking to, you can't fool me. I've seen you sneaking out of the dormitory at every opportunity, disappearing for hours on end and not returning till who knows what time in the night."

Draco's eyes darted across the Great Hall again, and then returned to Pansy. Did Pansy know…what did Pansy know? Had she seen him with Hermione? If she had, this was not the reaction that Draco would have expected. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Pansy," he said, growing uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation was going, "And if you don't mind, I am trying to eat here." He focussed on demolishing his pie, chewing very angrily.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, Draco, even if you were doing it behind my back,"

Draco balked at that. "Behind your back?" He dropped his fork and turned to her. "Let us get one thing perfectly straight, Pansy, I haven't done anything behind your back. How and where I spend my free time is my business, nobody else's. And I am not embarrassed about…anything, why the hell should I be?"

"You shouldn't," Pansy said, moving closer to him again and lowering her voice. "Like I said, you've missed a lot of classes, people expect you to be behind."

Now Draco was confused, what was Pansy actually talking about? "Are you going to start making sense anytime this year, Pansy?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I found the essays, Draco!"

"What essays?"

"The ones you've been trying to write all weekend, the ones we had to do while you were…away. I found them in your bag this morning," she beamed at him.

Draco took a second to put things right inside his head, and then he got mad. "In my…you went through my bag?" Pansy nodded, still smiling sweetly. Draco felt his temper near boiling point. "How dare you?"

Pansy merely shrugged and turned to her dinner plate, which she loaded with salad. "Someone has to keep an eye on you, Draco."

Draco froze in his anger, part of his mind simply refusing to believe that this was happening. Did Pansy actually think that there was nothing wrong with her searching his bag? "I am…struggling to understand this, Pansy, so you'll forgive me if this is a stupid question," he said, trying to rein in his anger, "But are you telling me, that you were spying on me?"

"I wasn't spying, I was just concerned." She set her fork down and looked around at the others for a moment before leaning very close to him and whispering, "Listen, I know you, Draco, probably a lot better than you know yourself."

'Yeah right!' Draco thought. He was about to interrupt her, but she just carried on talking, not giving him a chance.

"I know how important image is to you," she glanced around to ensure that nobody was listening to them, "You changed your hair as an excuse for people to stare at you, even though you claim that you don't want them to. It's a contradiction, Draco, which only makes sense in your head, but you see, I know that it's just the way you are. And I know that it's your way to act like the hard case all the time," she nodded at the other students around them, "You do it for them. You don't want to appear weak in front of _them_ – 'Never let them see you bleed,' eh?" she paused to smile at him, then her expression darkened. "You've been through hell in the last month, nobody can question that. And now that you're back, you are determined to act normal, to keep up the appearance that everything is fine, even though we all know that its not." She laughed quietly. "You don't even want to ask for help catching up with your classes. So you hide away, huddled over your books, trying to catch up, just so you can turn round and say to the world: 'See, here I am, Draco Malfoy. Nothing can touch me, not even my mother's death!'"

The words hit him like a sack of bludgers. Draco couldn't fathom it, the one subject in all the world that he just couldn't bear to think about, and it was the one thing that Pansy seemed determined to dredge up at every opportunity. His mind reeled as he resisted the urge to strangle her on the spot. Draco felt his heart start to pound in his throat. Pansy carried on without missing a beat, though he barely heard her.

"But you don't have to be that way all the time, Draco, not with me. The act doesn't fool me. I see the burden of the effort in your eyes, I know you're hurting inside, and I can't bear it." She reached out and took his hand. "Let me help you…if only with your schoolwork at first, if that's all you can manage. I'm not the brightest student in the school, but I can help you if you let me…I want to help you."

Draco pulled his hand free and turned away. Help him? Her idea of help was continually dragging him over the hot coals in his head? How dumb could one girl be? 'Be rational, think before you kill her, Draco!' he thought as his teeth ground. Draco knew Pansy, had done since before he had even come to Hogwarts. Her offer, such as it was, was genuine. She wasn't really dumb, far from it in fact. She just didn't see how raw his wounds still were. She didn't _mean_ to hurt him, it was just that she tended not to think things through before she spoke, and to make matters worse, she was persistent. In the past he had just ignored her little outbursts, only to have her repeat herself within moments. She was like a dog with a bone, never letting go until she was forced to. And force her he had to, it was that or manslaughter.

He turned to her and took hold of her chin with his left hand, turning her head so he could stare into her eyes as he spoke. "Right, let me say this to you one more time and make it clear. I do not need your help. I do not want your help. And if you ever…ever…mention my mother again, for any reason, I will not be liable for my actions."

Draco released her and faced forward. He picked up his fork, but realised that he no longer had any appetite. He dropped the fork with a clatter onto his plate and started to take long slow breaths, trying to exhale his anger. Pansy shuffled in her seat, but said no more. Draco's eyes found their way to the Gryffindor table once again. He wanted to look at Hermione's eyes; they would calm him down. Looking over, his gaze fell on her, but he didn't find anything in her face to help him in the slightest. Hermione was staring back at him with pure, boiling rage in her eyes. Her face was taught and her eyes were narrowed; they twinkled and seemed to shine in the candlelight from overhead. Draco felt his anger flee him in an instant, to be replaced by a sudden confused fear. What had he done? What was making her glare at him like that?

"What?" he mouthed in her direction, getting not the slightest response. Draco was bustled slightly as Pansy clambered out of her seat and left. He started as a hand waved in front of his eyes. He turned to see Annabelle Turner staring blankly at him. "What?" he asked her, frowning.

Annabelle drew back with a slight trepidation. "I asked you if you had seen Etean and Theo."

Draco blinked. "Huh?" his eyes darted back to the Gryffindor table. Hermione had stood up and was heading out of the hall. "Oh…no, why do you want to know?" he asked absent-mindedly, his eyes following Hermione as she stormed out.

"Well, we just…oh, there they are!" Annabelle piped. Draco's moving eyes lost Hermione as she left the hall. At the same moment he caught sight of Etean and Theo heading toward him, their heads together in hushed conversation.

"Finally!" Draco jumped as Blaise's voice boomed out behind him. "Come here you two, we need to talk."

Etean stopped in his tracks. "About what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and dropping into the seat Pansy had just vacated.

"Quidditch," Blaise and Annabelle answered together. Blaise sounded annoyed, Annabelle more bored. "I want to talk to you all," Blaise finished.

Draco looked behind him and noticed for the first time that the entire quidditch team was sitting at that section of the table. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting on the far side of Blaise, who was sat opposite Annabelle and Stephen Daniels. Annabelle shuffled to the side and patted the empty space beside her, inviting Theo to sit there.

Etean sighed in Draco's ear. "And just what, prey tell, is so important that it cannot wait until after dinner?"

"After dinner, Etean, we sixth years have a Duelling Club meeting, and I wanted to make a few things clear."

"Here he goes." Theo sighed and moved off, walking around the table to sit beside Annabelle. Draco noticed that he wasn't in all that much of a hurry.

Blaise watched every step Theo took and waited until he sat down to carry on. "Right…now that we are all listening." He glared at Theo for a moment. "We play Gryffindor next Saturday, which means that we need to be extra careful tonight. The Gryffindors would love the chance to injure one or more of us, to put us out of action before the game."

"As if," Theo snorted.

"No," Blaise growled at him, "not, as if. Five of us, Theo, are going to be duelling tonight. That's five chances for one of them to get lucky, or for one of us," he glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, "to do something stupid. We need to be careful. All we need now is for one of us to be landed in the hospital."

"Come off it, Cap," Annabelle giggled at Blaise's serious tone, "What the hell could any of those idiots do to any of you that would keep you in the hospital for a week?"

"Plenty of things, Annabelle, plenty…"

Draco tuned out the rest of Blaise's rant. His mind returned to Hermione and her weird behaviour. He replayed the scene in his head. She had smiled at him when he had arrived. He had sat down, eaten his dinner, and talked to…Pansy! The sudden jolt of realisation made him jump. Hermione had seen him talking to Pansy, who had been not a little clingy with him, and then she had gotten mad because she…but no, Hermione couldn't be…jealous? Draco felt a slight twinge of giddiness at the thought. There was no other explanation that he could dream up. Hermione was actually jealous!

Realising that he was grinning for no reason that the others were aware of, Draco schooled his features and returned his attention to the conversation around him.

"…so be careful is what I'm saying. Don't take any chances," Blaise said. He turned to Etean. "That goes double for you. You're the Champion, doubtless Blotter-boy or the over-sized Weasel will have yet another stab at you, and you can't turn down challenges, so keep on your toes."

Etean nodded, and gave a little salute. "Will do," he turned to his plate, "Now, with your permission, I would like to eat my dinner without people barking orders at me." Draco watched in amusement as Blaise almost rose to the bait Etean had dangled in front of him, then scowled and returned to his own food.

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Hermione stared at the Slytherin Table with mounting disgust. Pansy was all over Draco! It made Hermione sick to her stomach to see her smiling at him like some deranged idiot and batting her eyes. Oh god, now she was even whispering little nothings into his ear. Hermione's eyes settled on Draco. He didn't seem to mind Pansy's little musings. The scene was familiar. Pansy and Draco had always been the textbook on and off couple. One minute, they were all over one another and the next, they were barely on speaking terms. In the past, Hermione had never paid much attention, why would she? But now, she couldn't look away. God, she was so…obvious. She was practically drooling on him for heaven's sake. How could he put up with her? What the hell was he playing at?

In Hermione's mind, there were two Dracos, the one she knew now and the one she had known in the past. Hermione was perfectly willing to accept that the old Draco had been more than happy to put up with Pansy and her pathetic little ways. The old Draco would have enjoyed her simpering, fawning attentions, and had even returned them on occasion. The old Draco and Pansy were two of a kind, they deserved one another. But this wasn't the old Draco. Was it? For a heartrending moment, Hermione wasn't sure. The Draco in front of her appeared to her eyes as the old one in every respect. Hermione suddenly felt sick to her stomach as an awful thought hit her. What if he was still as he appeared to her now, still the same bigoted, ignorant bastard that she had loathed for five years? What if the other one, the Draco he appeared to be when he was with her, was nothing more than an act he put on for her benefit? What if it was all part of some twisted joke he was playing on her? Had she been so blinded by whatever feelings she had started to realise that she had for him that she hadn't seen the blatantly obvious truth? Was he really still the git he was?

Draco was looking at her now, wide eyed and inquisitive. Hermione fought to look away, afraid to let him see her stupidity in her face, but the sparkle of his silver eyes held her like a flame holds a moth. He looked away, and she could move. And move she did. Nearly leaping from the table, she left, fighting the urge to run out of the hall. Outside, she felt the urge to be alone, but Gryffindor Tower was miles away. She turned and ran instead to the nearest bathroom, praying that it would be empty.

It was. Inside, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it as the first tears fell. They had hardly wet her face, however, before anger rose inside her to tighten her throat and strangle her sobs.

'Stop that,' a harsh voice in her head rasped at her, 'you're being silly.' The voice was right, Hermione knew it, but listening to it, believing it in her heart, was another matter. Her mind replayed her quiet conversations she had shared with him, hours on end talking about her most private thoughts. God, she had bared her soul to that….that whatever he was. 'Easy,' the voice was calmer now, and it soothed her racing mind, 'relax and think. When he's with you, he has nothing to prove, nobody to impress or to show off to. When he's with you he can relax. He shows you the real him. Ignore the act he was putting on out there.'

The words rang in her ears, and they made sense. 'But,' she thought, still lost in woe, 'how can I be sure?' The thought now that he was going to just turn around and spit it all back at her nearly crushed her. She staggered to the sink and splashed water on her face in an attempt to clear her head. It didn't work. An image of Pansy Parkinson leading the rest of the Slytherins in a chant of 'Crazy Little Mudblood, Crazy Little Mudblood!' made her stomach churn.

'Oh, listen to yourself,' the voice rang out in her ear again, harsher this time, 'what are you, some sort of idiot?'

Hermione's eyes snapped open and locked onto her reflection in the mirror. There was a detached harshness in her eyes that shouldn't be there, "What?" she asked herself in a quiet voice.

To Hermione's horror, her reflection started to move without her moving to match it. Her mind tossed up an image, a memory of another reflection in another mirror weeks ago, that had behaved this way. She had convinced herself then that she had been imagining it, and she must be now too. Then it spoke!

'Look at you, crying like a little girl over nothing. You know this boy, and you know better. Don't you even trust your own instincts?' Hermione saw the lips of her reflection move as she heard the voice in her head. It was her voice, but colder somehow, more clipped and precise than it normally sounded. Hermione's mind froze in panic as her reflection sneered at her. 'You're not like this when you're with him are you? If you are, then can you blame him for having eyes for another girl?'

"What?" Hermione squeaked, unable to fully comprehend that she was, in fact, talking to herself.

Her reflection carried on, ignoring her, 'I mean, would you want to have anything to do with someone who kicked off at you just because you were talking to someone you'd known for years?'

"I don't," Hermione had to force the words out, "I don't believe this, this isn't real." She shut her eyes, but the voice carried on.

'Ok, here it comes, rationality!' The voice sounded annoyed, almost frustrated.

"This isn't real…this isn't real," Hermione repeated over and over.

'Real? How can I be real?' her reflection laughed, 'I mean, what am I after all? A mere reflection, an image trapped in the glass of the mirror, how can I possibly be real?'

"This isn't happening…this is not real!'

The voice laughed again, 'this isn't real…this isn't real,' it repeated her words sarcastically. "Reality…imagination…insanity, what does it matter? Tell me, is reality defined by what you believe in? Or is it no more complex than what you see and hear?'

"I don't see it…I don't hear it…it isn't real!"

'Oh, I give up!'

Silence! Hermione's eyes opened again and she looked up. The face in the mirror had returned to normal. It moved as she did, it blinked when she did, it frowned as she did. Hermione pressed her hand into the pane of the mirror, watching her reflection do the same. "What the hell is wrong with me?" she said, then shook her head, dismissing what had just happened. "My head," she sighed, "it was all in my head, I just imagined it." She breathed the words slowly, trying to make herself believe it.

"Who's there?" a voice from the stalls behind her made Hermione's heart stop, she alone in here, wasn't she? Or was she hearing voices again? She turned to stare at the row of doors.

"Is someone there?" she asked quietly, dreading both an answer and a deafening silence. After a moment, she heard movement and one of the stall doors unlatched. Hermione drew back, half afraid of who or what she was about to see step out of it. To her relief, it was Lavender that appeared.

"Oh!" Lavender's said, leaning on the doorjamb. "It's you," she finished quietly.

Hermione looked over to see that Lavender had been crying; her face was streaked with tears. "Yes," she answered her question, fighting her heart rate down, "just me."

"Who were you talking to?" said Lavender, frowning slightly.

Hermione panicked. Lavender had heard her talking to herself, "Nobody," she said quickly.

"I thought I heard you talking."

Hermione's mind raced. "Oh, I was just muttering away to myself," she forced out a quiet little laugh, "I erm, didn't think anyone was in here." She blushed and tried to hide her panic. Searching for a way to change the subject, she noticed once more that Lavender was upset. "What's wrong?" she asked, stepping forward.

Lavender shrugged. "Nothing," she said quietly, sniffing, "nothing at all."

'She's lying,' the voice came again, speaking in Hermione's ear as though the speaker was standing behind her. Hermione jumped slightly, but forced herself to smile as she struggled to ignore her mounting fear. She stepped forward and took Lavender's arm. Lavender looked at her through teary eyes and took less than a second to break down. She looked away and snuffled hard.

Hermione gave her arm a little squeeze. "Yes," she said, offering Lavender a tissue from her pocket, "that's what I thought." Lavender took the tissue with a shaking hand and blew her nose furiously. "What is it?" Hermione asked her softly.

'Why do you ask that?' the voice said. 'You already know the answer. The reddened eyes, the faded pallor of the skin, the reluctance to speak.' The voice made a sound like a scoff. 'Clearly that boy she's seeing has done something idiotic to upset her.'

Hermione shut her eyes against the voice and focussed her attention on Lavender. She sniffed again. "Finnegan!" she said quietly, tears flowing again.

Hermione's heart sank! 'Told you so!' the voice rang out cheekily.

"Stop it!" Hermione hissed.

Lavender started. "What?"

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "I meant stop crying," she said softly, "and tell me what happened."

Lavender frowned at her for a moment. "It doesn't matter," she said dismissively as she wiped hard at her eyes, "don't worry about it."

Lavender made to leave, but Hermione stopped her. "Hey," she said, "Come on, Lavender, what happened? What did he do?"

Lavender wiped at her eyes again. "Nothing, he did nothing, that's the problem. He's just being his usual, idiotic self."

Hermione frowned. "I don't understand."

"Don't you?" Lavender said with a touch of frustration. "You know what he's like, the loud spoken, boyish lout?"

Hermione may not have used those words, and she was certainly surprised to hear Lavender use them, but she had to admit, they did fit. "Yes," she smiled to hide her surprise, "so?"

"So? That isn't the boy I want to be with, and that's not what he's like with me. When we're alone, he's sweet and nice and…but when he's with his friends…" she trailed off and sniffed again. "He changes. It's like he becomes dumber or something. He makes stupid jokes, leers at other girls, prattles on and on about quidditch…sometimes I feel like he barely even notices me," she stopped speaking and walked past Hermione to the sinks. "I don't know, maybe he really doesn't want to be with me at all," she said glumly. "Maybe I'm just a convenient distraction for him…something he can just toss aside whenever he likes."

Hermione turned to watch her, feeling a slight sense of déjà vu. 'Imagine that, a boy who seems to change when he's around his friends?' the voice cooed in her ear. 'Remind you of anyone we know?' Hermione's will to ignore the persistent whispering in her ear collapsed. Her mind seemed to slow down to a crawl. Without realising it, she started to walk forward. The voice kept talking as she closed in behind Lavender. 'It seems we aren't the only one being silly, are we?' a laugh, 'But then, are we? These two, Seamus and Lavender, are they really meant for each other?'

'How the hell should I know?' Hermione answered, thought with angry thought, annoyed at the persistence of the voice. It wasn't real, why didn't realising that make it go away?

'Let's find out shall we?' Hermione felt herself slide as if into a trance, her hand extended toward Lavender's wrist. She watched in a confused daze as her fingers closed around Lavender's hand. There was a flash and the world disappeared.

"Oops," a voice from in front of her giggled. "Sorry, Hermione, I haven't quiet got the hang of this thing."

Hermione blinked and shook her head to clear her vision. The picture of Pavarti swirled into view. She was bent over a large, silver camera, fitting a new flash bulb into it with some difficulty. Hermione shook her head again and turned away, blinking the remnants of the flash away. Her vision and her head cleared and she smiled as she took in her surroundings. The early morning breeze washed over her, blowing the scent of the rose bushes that filled the church yard across the jubilant crowd that were gathered, waiting for the happy couple to leave the church. There was a sudden rush of movement and clamour of excitement. Pavarti giggled hard and spun, taking aim at the church door with her camera. Hermione turned and shaded her eyes against the sun, squinting through her grin as Seamus appeared from the shadows and beamed at the crowd. A second later, Lavender appeared beside him, grinning just as wide, resplendent in her white satin gown.

They had done it. Hermione laughed under her breath as she thought about all the scrapes and hurdles they had had to dodge to get here, but they were here, that was all that mattered. They waved and grinned at their friends below as people with cameras gathered to the front and started calling for them to pose for pictures. Pavarti disappeared from sight with an excited squeal, desperate for a good shot of the happy couple. Hermione, along with everyone else present, laughed hard and applauded as Seamus grabbed Lavender and bent her low to kiss her. There was a flash as all the cameras present went off as one. Hermione blinked, and then frowned in sudden darkness.

Lavender was staring at her in confusion. "I said, what are you doing?" she asked.

Hermione stared at her for a moment, then realised that she was still holding onto Lavender's wrist. "Sorry," she said as she released her.

Lavender shook her head. "You are acting weird lately, Hermione, do you know that?" She turned back to the sink and washed her hands in silence before turning to Hermione again. "Listen," she said quietly, "can we…keep this little episode between the two of us? I was just being an idiot, that's all."

Hermione still felt as though she was only half awake. She blinked and then remembered to answer, "Sure, whatever you like."

"Thanks," Lavender patted her on the arm and turned to leave. She had reached the door before Hermione called her. "What?" she asked, turning around.

"I think," Hermione started. She paused, trying to figure out what to say that wouldn't sound crazy, "I think you'll be alright…you and Seamus, I mean."

Lavender smiled faintly. "Maybe," she said and she was gone.

'Now, you tell me what's real and what isn't.' The voice sounded triumphant.

Hermione spun back to the mirror, half expecting to see it grinning at her. Just what the hell was going on? She lifted her hand to touch her image again, then let out a startled shriek. For a moment, just a moment, her hand wasn't her own. A charred, burned, dying hand hung before her eyes. She could feel it, every twitch of pain was as though it was real. Then it was gone. Her own hand trembled in the air.

'I don't understand,' Hermione thought. Expecting and half wanting a response from the voice, none came. Hermione stood, transfixed, staring at her hand as she turned it over and over.

Time passed, and Hermione became aware of the rhythm of her heart pounding in her chest. It was the only sound that she was aware of until a sudden bustling roar sounded from outside. Dinner was over and the students were returning to their houses. The door of the bathroom burst open and three girls came in. They ignored Hermione and went about their business, chattering. Hermione shook her head to dismiss her confusion and headed out. There was a Duelling Club meeting tonight, which, on checking her watch, she realised was about to begin. She reached the Entrance Hall and stopped, staring at a bunch of students, Slytherins to be more precise. As Hermione watched, Annabelle Turner separated from them. She and a boy, Stephen something, headed off to the dungeons. The remaining students turned toward the Great Hall, Parkinson among them. Hermione frowned as she looked at her.

'Do you know,' the voice returned, Hermione recognised the tone of it now as being full of suspicion, 'You probably should keep an eye on that one.'

Hermione felt her brow tighten. 'Why? You…I said I was just being silly.'

'_I_ did, and _you_ were,' the voice responded, 'Draco has no interest in her…yet. But _she_ is interested in _him_, and we both know how stupid boys can be. If you aren't careful, she could steal him away without him even realising it.'

Hermione was way past reasoning the voice away as her imagination. Maybe it was her subconscious mind trying to assert itself, or maybe she was really starting to lose her mind. 'Does it matter?' the voice asked, 'You have a problem, and I know how to solve it.'

'You do? How?'

The voice laughed. 'Simple…trust me!'

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Draco kicked his heels outside the Great Hall, waiting for Snape to finish clearing the tables so they could go inside. Finally the doors opened and the Professor ushered them inside. The room was laid out precisely as it had been when Draco had attended his one and only meeting of the Duelling Club, with one rather odd difference. At one end of the duelling platform stood a huge blackboard. It was over fifteen feet tall and stretched to nearly the full width of the Hall. Draco was drawn to it, desiring a closer look.

"What the hell is this thing?" he asked nobody in particular.

"That is the Challenge Board," said Etean behind him. Draco turned to him as Etean stopped beside him. He made a rolling gesture with his finger, a signal for Etean to explain. Etean nodded toward the board. Draco turned to see Snape standing before it, dwarfed by its sheer size. Snape lifted his wand and tapped the board once. Writing, words and lines, appeared on the dark surface. Within seconds, one half of the board was divided into over a dozen horizontal regions while the other side bore a list of names, the names of each and every sixth year in the school. Each name had a large, empty space beside it, as though prepared for other names to be added later.

Draco frowned. "I think that will require some explanation."

"Perhaps a demonstration will help," Etean said with a grin. He took out his wand and aimed at the board. "Draco Malfoy," he said in a clear voice.

Draco's momentary annoyance at the sound of his name passed when he saw Etean's name appear next to his on the left hand side of the board. An odd symbol appeared next to Etean's name after a moment, and then the words faded. Draco frowned. "Was that supposed to happen?"

"Indeed." Etean's flat response turned Draco round. "See, the procedure is simple. You just aim your wand at the board and say the name of whomever you want to challenge. Your name will then, as mine did, appear beside the name of the person you challenged. That person will be able to see your name, along with the names of everyone else that has challenged them. They will merely then have to aim at the board and say: 'I accept the challenge of …' and fill in the blank. That's it, duel arranged. It will be listed on the right hand side for Snape to schedule, he decides the ordering."

Etean finished explaining. It was a simple system that gave anyone the chance to challenge anyone else, and to be challenged by anyone else, freely and without complication. There was, however, one thing that puzzled Draco. "Hold on, why did your name vanish just then?"

"Ah," Etean turned back to the board and repeated his challenge of Draco, with the same result. "You see the mark that appears next to my name up there?"

"Yes," Draco nodded.

"Well," Etean gestured to his robes, and to the champion's badge he wore, "look familiar?" Draco nodded. "Champions can't challenge others to duel, nor can we turn down challenges. So long as I am champion, I will have to accept at least one challenge per meeting, whereas you and all the others remain free to simply spectate, should you so desire."

That, also, made a certain amount of sense. "So, I take it we'll actually be duelling tonight then, not training or some other exercise?"

Etean shrugged. "Seems that way. Snape wouldn't bother with the board if we weren't, would he?"

"I suppose not," Draco replied.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Snape at the centre of the room. He looked around and then bellowed for silence. "Challenges will now be accepted for five minutes," he roared.

There was a mutter of conversation, punctuated by the occasional voice rising clearly above the rest to utter a challenge toward the board. Draco scanned the room. Students were gathered, as they always were, according to their houses. In an odd coincidence, the students of both Gryffindor and Slytherin had chosen to stand on the same side of the bisecting table. A look into their eyes showed that neither group of students were happy with the arrangement. Indeed a five foot gap was being steadfastly maintained as though it were a solid barrier. Draco's eyes spotted Potter, Weasley and Dean Thomas huddled together in conversation. A look to the board showed him that all three had challenged Etean to duel. Draco scanned the list of names as more challenges appeared. Blaise seemed to have been right in his assessment; there was a definite trend amongst the Gryffindors to challenge the members of the Slytherin team. Etean himself seemed to have received more challenges than anyone; the names on the board next to his had shrunk to fit and were now so small that they were almost unintelligible. Etean didn't seem phased by this though, not that Draco had expected him to be. He merely stood beside Draco, talking to Blaise about the coming quidditch match as though he didn't have a care in the world.

Draco also noticed, with a degree of satisfaction, that the Slytherins had chosen to ignore Blaise's warning. Theo Nott was already down to duel against half the Gryffindors and Crabbe and Goyle were down to duel…each other. Draco laughed and shook his head; they were getting duller by the day, those two. Draco was surprised to see that Pansy, not one to be fond of duelling so far as he knew, had also accepted a challenge. She was down to duel after Theo had taken on Dean Thomas, and she was to be facing…Hermione!

Draco frowned and searched the room to locate her. He hadn't noticed her come in. He saw her standing alone in the corner by the doors, removed from the other Gryffindors and seemed to be distracted. She was staring at her feet and Draco could see her lips moving in silent conversation, with herself it seemed. Draco sighed, he had been amused by her apparent jealousy of Pansy, but now he was starting to feel bad. She seemed genuinely upset. Draco took two steps toward her, his intention to reassure her and ease her mind when Snape's voice rooted him to the spot.

"Mr Malfoy," he said in a quiet sort of drawl, "I did say that you had only five minutes to arrange your duels. Did you not hear me?"

Draco blinked at him. "I heard you Professor," he shrugged, "I just don't really want to challenge anyone, that's all."

The Professor nodded. "That is of course, up to you. However, you are still required to answer the challenges you receive." He pointed to the board as he spoke.

Draco followed his arm and noticed for the first time that he had indeed, been challenged, by Ernie Macmillan of all people! He blinked and looked around until he located him. Ernie was standing on the opposite side of the duelling platform, looking at him curiously. Draco looked back at him and shrugged, why not?

"I accept the challenge of Ernie Macmillan!" he said, aiming his wand at the board.

The duel was accepted and added to the board. Snape nodded and marched along the table, barking orders for silence as he went. "Now," he said once the noise level had dropped, "it seems that all those of you that wish to challenge have done so, and all those who have been challenged have decided. There still remains the little detail of our champion," he gave Etean a predatory smile, "You seem to have received quite a few challenges, Mr Etean, and you are aware of the rules…" he gestured for Etean to make his decision.

Etean smiled slightly and turned his attention to the board, though Draco was fairly sure he knew what Etean was about to do. Etean raised his arm, "I accept the challenges of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley!" he said, "as usual," Etean added under his breath so only Draco would hear him, and then, louder, he said, "I don't think I'll bother with the rest, Professor."

Snape nodded and waved his wand at the board. The list of names vanished and the arranged duels spread out to cover the entire space. "Now, now," Snape clucked his tongue, "Theodore," he said, turning to look at Theo, "I'm afraid I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to duel against the whole school. It simply wouldn't be fair." Snape took aim, and, one by one, began eliminating Theo's arranged duels. Draco noted that he was trimming the field of challengers to remove the more highly skilled opponents. Theo shrugged, seeming not to care as Snape finished surveying the list and clapped his hands. "So, first up we have Pavarti Patil versus…Padma Patil." He shook his head slightly in disapproval as he took his place at the referee's podium.

The Patil sisters only succeeded in landing such severe tickling curses on one another that they both collapsed and the duel was declared a draw. Following that, Theo stood up and levelled Justin Finch-Fletchley in less than five seconds, and then Dean Thomas in about seven. The duels continued, though Draco's attention quickly waned, his thoughts were never far from Hermione. She was still standing alone in the corner by the side door. Her face was now upturned and her eyes closed in contemplation. He had to talk to her, explain to her that she needn't be jealous, but he needed a moment alone to do it. If someone from Gryffindor or Slytherin noticed, they would stick their stupid interfering noses in, and that would fuck everything up. Still, he needed to talk to her. Draco was struck by just how small and delicate she looked, standing alone as she was, her face was pale, and he was half sure that she was trembling. If Pansy was in the mood to duel, it was little wonder she had chosen Hermione. Pansy was always was one to strike at weakness, it was her instinct. Draco looked over at her, it was an instinct he shared and he knew it, but still…He couldn't get to Hermione without driving straight through the Gryffindors, so he made his way over to Pansy. She didn't seem happy.

"Can I have a word?" he asked her quietly, drawing her away from the others.

"What is it?" she snapped, seeming very nervous.

Draco frowned at her. "I was just going to ask what you were playing at challenging Hermione?"

"Challenging her?" she seemed bewildered. "Draco, she challenged me!"

"What?" Draco asked. He was about to push for more details when he realised that Snape had just called his name: it was time for his duel. Draco released Pansy and moved forward through the crowd to clamber onto the platform. He stood up and faced Ernie.

"Salute!" Snape commanded and they bowed.

"Nothing personal, Malfoy," whispered Ernie as he stood up, smiling. "Just curious about how good a duellist you are."

"Whatever," said Draco absently.

"Positions," Snape shouted. Draco and Ernie turned and walked away from one another. As he strolled back to his mark, Draco looked over at Hermione. She was looking at him now, a fact that nearly made him stop in his tracks. Her amber eyes were wide in confusion as she looked at him. Draco felt desperate for her to know that she was wrong, that she had no need to be jealous of anyone, but his current situation made that somewhat difficult. All he could do was smile at her as he took his mark and had to turn.

Draco faced Ernie and stood ready, eager to get this over with. Snape looked from one to the other, then counted down. "Three…two…one!" and they were on.

It wasn't so much as a duel from Draco's point of view as it was target practice. Even before Snape had finished his countdown, Draco was tensing his mind and slowing time. It was more difficult than waiting for the incoming danger to trigger the response, but Draco had no patience to wait for Ernie to fire. Time slowed to a crawl; Draco imagined that Ernie never even saw him move. He released his hold on time as he levelled his wand at Ernie's heart,

"Repulset!"

There was a flash of blue light and the spell shot at Ernie. It hit even before he had started to swing his arm forward. The blast sent his wand arm flailing and pitched him back into the air. He landed with a thud, five feet from where he had been standing, knocked senseless by the blast.

"Winner," Snape said deadpan, though there was a hint of a smile on his face as he pointed at Draco. Draco nodded to acknowledge him and then hopped off the table. Behind him, Snape revived Ernie and then called the next duelling pair, Hannah Abbot versus Justin Finch-Fletchly, forward. Draco ignored the jubilant slaps on the back he received and the nod of approval from Etean; his gaze and his mind were fixed on Hermione. He had to talk to her, speak to her, or he would go mad. His mind was searching for a way to do it, to distract the gathered crowd, if only for a few moments. He was still reeling when chance gave him what he desired. Hannah defeated Justin with a deft disarming charm. Justin clearly wasn't having a good evening! As they shook hands and vacated the platform, Snape called the next pair. Weasley was to face Etean!

Draco spun on his heel. Etean was already on the platform before Draco spotted him. The sixth years muttered in anticipation and started to bustle forward. 'Etean,' Draco thought happily, 'the _perfect_ distraction!' But there was a problem, Etean would finish Weasley before that idiot even knew he was duelling, and that wouldn't do.

'Keep him busy,' Draco sent the thought to Etean, 'Him and the rest of them.'

Draco saw Etean wink at him out of the corner of his eye, and smiled. It would be quite a sight, shame he wouldn't be paying attention. Snape counted down. Draco alone paid no heed to the start of the duel as he made his way round to Hermione. She wasn't looking at him now, or at the duel. In fact, she didn't even seem to be aware her surroundings at all, standing with her eyes closed as she was. Close to, he could see that she was trembling.

"What's going on, Hermione?" he asked her quietly.

Hermione jumped. Her eyes opened and she looked at him. Her face dropped. "Duelling," her voice sounded strained, "what do you think?"

"No, I mean, why did you challenge Pansy to duel?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she looked over to where Pansy was standing. "Because," her jaw worked slowly with no sound coming out, "because I wanted to."

She returned her attention to the duelling, though she wasn't really looking. Draco turned and scanned the room. Etean was still happily dodging everything Weasley could throw at him, occasionally half heartedly returning fire. Everyone else was fixated on the duelling, nobody was paying the slightest attention to anything else. He took a step closer to her, so he could whisper.

"But why though?" he moved closer to her, "tell me that you don't think that there's something going on with me and Pansy, do you?"

Hermione didn't look at him. "And if I did, would I be right?"

"No," he said, turning her head toward him, "you wouldn't be. Do you hear me, Hermione, there is nothing going on."

Hermione's eyes didn't soften. "Have you told her that?" she said coolly.

Draco felt a sudden chill. There was a burst of applause from the Slytherins. Etean must have finally dispatched Weasley. Draco glanced over to see him looking momentarily in his direction. Times up, even without communication, the message was clear. Draco took a step back from Hermione, but had to finish this conversation. "No," he said, "I didn't see the need, to tell you the truth." He glanced in Pansy's direction. She was talking to Etean, congratulating him on his victory. The Slytherins looked very pleased with themselves and he knew why, Gryffindor had yet to win a single match against them. Draco looked back at Hermione, she seemed distracted again. A sudden resolution came over him. "I'll tell her right now, if you like."

Hermione opened her eyes and smiled at him, "You can't tell her now, Draco."

"Why not?" Draco frowned at her.

"Because," Hermione took out her wand and moved forward, "now, I have to duel her."

Draco hadn't heard Snape call her name, but he must have. The whole room turned to look at her as she made her way in silence to the duelling platform. Hermione climbed up and stood on her mark. She was waiting for almost thirty seconds before Pansy made it to her place and stood ready. Snape ordered them to bow and then to take their places. Hermione moved out of his view to the far end, while Pansy moved toward him to the near end. She looked definitely nervous.

Snape counted down, "Three…Two…One…"

Draco had no idea what happened next. He saw Pansy swing her arm and clearly heard her roar, "Expelliarmus!" There was a flash of light as Pansy's spell shot out on target, and then there was a scream!

There was pandemonium. Students leapt back from the duelling table in alarm as Pansy howled in agony and dropped to her knees. Based on the sound of her scream, Hermione must have hit her with something terrible, but Draco had seen no curse strike her. Pansy continued to scream and wail, her eyes suddenly flashed wide and stared along the table. Still, Draco saw no curse hit her, he heard Hermione utter no enchantment. Pansy roared again and scrambled back, as if terrified by something in front of her. Draco watched, open mouthed as she picked up speed and only stopped when she hit the wall at the end of the Hall. It was only then, in a gap between Pansy's screams, that Draco heard Hermione roaring too. He surged forward to the table, tossing people aside as he went until he was at the edge. He leaned forward until he saw her. Hermione was lying on her back, cradling her right arm, howling in pain. What the hell had just happened? Draco's mind raced to figure it out.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was up on the table and headed toward her. Snape bounded round his lectern and seized him by his robes, "The duel is not yet over, Draco," the Professor hissed, though he sounded less composed than he normally did.

"Yes it is, Sir," Potter cried, bouncing onto the table behind Snape. It was the first time that he and Draco had ever agreed on anything. Snape refused to release Draco. He held him firmly in place and started bellowing for order at the top of his voice. It was clear in an instant that he was fighting a losing battle. By now Potter and Weasley had reached Hermione and were trying to help her up. Hermione was being none too cooperative; she was stubbornly trying to bat them away from her with her good hand, roaring in pain all the time. Pansy continued to wail at the top of her lungs behind him. Draco ignored her and surged forward again, Hermione needed help. She would let him help her, he was sure of it. Snape heaved and pushed, but was unable to overpower Draco until he had some help. A strong hand seized the back of Draco's neck and hauled him back with alarming ease.

'SETTLE DOWN!' Etean's mental roar was so loud that Draco was sure it had ruptured something in his skull. The pain unsettled him and he staggered back, no longer restrained by Etean's grip. Draco's temple pounded, but he was used to pain like this in his head by now, and so managed to keep his feet. By the time he was able to recover his senses, however, Snape had marched smartly over to where Hermione lay, and had cleared her friends from round her with a snarl. Draco struggled to see her injury more clearly, but Snape was blocking his view. He had a mind to move forward toward her again, but Etean had other ideas. He grabbed Draco and turned him round, shoving him with not a little force at the gathered Slytherins. 'Stay there,' it came through as an order as Draco landed and turned to see Etean striding the length of the table to where Pansy was cowering against the wall. She had stopped wailing now, but looked no less terrified than she had during the duel. Millicent alone had gone over to her and appeared to have calmed her slightly. Millicent stood and shook her head as Etean dismissed her and knelt beside Pansy.

Draco's attention was drawn to the other end of the table as Snape stood up, holding Hermione. Her right arm was bound in what appeared to be a piece of Snape's own robes. She held it close to her chest as Snape turned back to the students. "Now settle down the lot of you," he roared. He turned his attention to Pansy. "Is she injured?" he asked, the question clearly directed at Etean.

Etean stood and turned from the moaning Pansy to look at Snape. "No, Sir…at least not physically. She is scared out of her wits, though."

Snape looked down at Pansy for a moment. "Right," he glanced around at the students faces, "Now…I will escort Miss Granger to the Hospital wing." There was a seriousness in his tone that meant nobody would question him. He looked to Etean. "I will not be gone long. You are in charge, Mr Etean, until I return. Have someone escort Miss Parkinson to her dormitory and then _continue the duels_." Snape stressed this order, his eyes locked onto Etean's. Etean paused, and then nodded slowly, apparently getting Snape's meaning.

Draco watched as Snape, with unfathomable care, assisted Hermione in climbing from the table. Before she dropped from sight, her eyes met Draco's for one heart stopping second. He saw confused fear and terror in her eyes. Then the crowd was between them and she was lost to him.

"Draco!"

'Draco!' Etean called him, aurally and mentally, spinning Draco round. Etean beckoned him forward. Pansy was sitting now on the edge of the table. Millicent had her arm round her but Pansy seemed not to be aware of it. She just stared blankly ahead of her, tears pouring from her eyes.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked Etean quietly as he hunkered down to him.

"She's in shock," Etean looked at Pansy, a calculating look in his eyes, "She had one hell of a fright."

Looking at Pansy, Draco thought that was an understatement. "What the hell happened here, Etean?" he asked in real bewilderment.

Before Etean could answer, Pansy let out another startled shriek. She shoved Millicent away forcefully and leapt forward at Draco, wrapping her arms about him so tightly that he could barely breathe. "Right," Etean said forcefully as Draco scrambled for air, "we need someone to take her to Slytherin, and I think, Draco," he said with a raised eyebrow, "that you just got elected."

With that he stood and marched to the centre of the table, bellowing above the scattered chatter for order. Draco had never heard Etean use this tone before, he spoke now as though he expected to be obeyed, and it was so. Confusion and scattered whisperings died instantly and all turned to face him. "Snape told us to duel, and I for one do not intend to annoy him, so lets get on with it, shall we?" He glanced at the board. "Blaise, Thomas, you're up."

As Etean stepped back to the lectern to administer the duel, he spared a glance to Draco. 'Go! Take her out of here, and keep an eye on her!' The order in his head was beyond Draco's will to question.

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Hermione heard Snape and Madam Pomfrey conversing in whispers behind the curtain, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Her attention to the effort faded as she tried to remember what had just happened. Her arm burned like it was on fire; she was afraid to remove Snape's hastily tied bandage and look at it. The duel was a blur, a frightened, angry blur into which she could force no clarity. The voice had asked Hermione to trust it, and for some unfathomable reason, Hermione had. What happened next…didn't make sense. She had said things, done things that she didn't understand. Challenged Pansy to duel when in her heart, she knew there was no need of it, ignored Draco's attempt to pacify her, when she knew that even for him to make the effort was proof enough of his feelings for her. She remembered being called forward, conscious of only her own heartbeat. She had stood, she had bowed and she had…duelled, all without any will of her own that she could recall.

The conversation between Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey was brief. Snape brushed past the curtain without as much as a nod in her direction. There was a sudden rush of air as Madam Pomfrey pulled back the curtain and stepped up beside Hermione. "It never fails," the nurse muttered as she started to undo the bandage, "the Duelling Club meets, and I get a patient to treat."

"Ouch!" Hermione squealed as Madam Pomfrey tugged the bandage off to reveal her arm.

"Oh don't be silly girl, it isn't that ba…" Madam Pomfrey trailed off when she saw the extent of the burns on Hermione's arm. Her touch became instantly more tender. "Oh my," she breathed as she turned Hermione's hand over, gently pulling Hermione's sleeve up and securing it above her elbow. "Expeliarmus?" she spoke as if to herself. "The Disarming Charm did this?"

"Yes," Hermione answered through clenched teeth, the memory of the duel playing again before her eyes.

Madam Pomfrey set Hermione's arm down on her lap and straightened up. "I'll be back in a moment, dear," she said and disappeared round the curtain. Hermione was left alone. She looked down at her arm and winced. Cruel burns and blistering welts covered every square inch of her hand and forearm all the way up to her elbow. It was an oddly familiar image. Hermione's chest tightened as the realisation hit her. The vision the voice had shown her, the image of the burned hand she had seen when she was talking to Lavender, it had been her own! She had seen this moment over two hours ago. Every burn, every welt, every drop of blood was the same. Hermione sat back, careful not to bump her arm and stared at the wall, wondering what the hell it meant. Had she really had a vision of the future? Had the voice been real? Had it shown her a true vision of what was about to happen? If so, were the others real too, the wedding, the baby? Hermione shook her head and dispelled the notion. No, that was silly, visions like that weren't real, they were just a silly fiction that people like Lavender and Professor Trelawney allowed themselves to believe in, just to make themselves feel important. Hermione didn't believe in nonsense like that, but, looking down at her hand again, the logical part of her mind had to admit defeat.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's return. The matron came round the curtain and relieved herself of several potion bottles which she started to arrange on a small portable treatment table. There were a lot of bottles. Hermione goggled as she tried to read the labels: how bad was her arm?

"Em," she said, getting no reaction from Madam Pomfrey, "What are all of those for?"

"I wouldn't have thought that you were one to ask silly questions Miss Granger," was the curt reply. Madam Pomfrey turned and looked down at Hermione's arm with a slight frown. "I'll need these to treat your arm. Right…to work." She drew her wand and took hold of Hermione's wrist with her free hand. "Now," she paused and narrowed her eyes, "I want you to brace yourself, dear, and let me know _exactly_ what you feel as I treat this wound." Her tone was severe, far more so than Hermione had expected. "Here goes!" she said as she set the tip of her wand against Hermione's injured skin. "Hippocratus!"

There was a flash as the end of her wand flared, and…then an explosion of agony. Hermione felt as though her hand had been ripped off. Pain, the likes of which she had never felt before shot up through her shoulder and detonated inside her head. Hermione felt herself go limp. She wanted to curl up into a little ball and die, but couldn't move. The world swirled and blurred around her and then slowly faded away. The last thing she remembered was hearing a distant, pitiful shriek.

A sudden foul odour made her nostrils flare. The world switched back on, bringing the dizzying pain with it. Her arm felt as though it was on fire, the searing pain had started to travel up toward her shoulder. Hermione moaned and tried to open her eyes but failed. It was as if they were welded shut. She heard a voice, distant, distorted, fuzzy.

"N….ear…eee"

"Mwhaaa…" The second voice sounded as though it was closer to her, it sounded familiar. The terrible stench came back again and triggered a flash of sudden, terrible awareness. Pain flared harder in her arm. She opened her mouth to scream but heard no sound come out. The pain triggered a wave of nausea in her stomach. Hermione's eyes opened and she looked up to see a blurry form above her. Slowly, sensations other than the agony in her arm started to get through to her battered mind. She was cold, whatever she was lying on was freezing…and hard…the floor, she was lying on the floor. Something grabbed her chin and shook her head.

"Can you hear me, Hermione?" said a woman's voice.

Hermione shook her head and willed her eyes to focus. The pain in her arm made concentration on anything else next to impossible, but in the end she managed it. The shape of a face appeared before her, a little more concentration and she could make out Madam Pomfrey.

"Wha…" she shook her head again and tried to force her mind to obey, "What? Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital, dear, remember?" said Madam Pomfrey, rubbing Hermione's forehead gently.

Hermione looked at her, the image of her face moving in and out of focus over and over, and then she remembered. With a sudden surge of strength, she sat up and howled in pain as her wounded arm collided with Madam Pomfrey's elbow. She would have fallen back onto the floor again if the nurse hadn't caught her.

"Careful, dear," she hissed as she adjusted her position to allow her to help Hermione sit up. "Take it easy. That was a nasty fall."

"Fall?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Yes, dear, you fainted. I am sorry. I didn't expect the reaction to be so severe."

Hermione's mind couldn't fit the puzzle together. "Reaction? What…what…"

"Shhhh," soothed the matron. "All in time, just take it easy until you get your strength back." They remained in place for several minutes, Madam Pomfrey occasionally waving a foul smelling lump of something beneath Hermione's nose. The smell nearly made her wretch, but she did seem to be coming back to her senses a bit; the room had stopped spinning at least. The pain in her arm was now so severe that Hermione felt as though she might pass out again, or be sick, neither appealed to her.

"Now then," said Madam Pomfrey at last. "Lets get you up so we can take care of that arm." Hermione couldn't speak for the pain, she simply nodded and cradled her arm as Madam Pomfrey stood and helped her clamber to her feet. It was hard work. Hermione's knees felt like jelly. Madam Pomfrey had to all but hoist her up and sit her on the bed.

Once Hermione was settled, Madam Pomfrey released her and took up one of the potion bottles from the table. Hermione recoiled as she turned back, fearing another blast of agony. "It's alright," said Madam Pomfrey in a soft voice, "this won't hurt at all, I promise you."

Hermione was afraid, her arm looked twice as bad now than it had before Madam Pomfrey's first 'treatment.' The pain was too much to bear, however, so, after a moment she relented and allowed the nurse to take her arm. Madam Pomfrey laid it gently on the treatment table and started to gently dab and clean the worst of the wounds with a cloth soaked in the contents of the potion bottle. Her arm started to cool, the pain faded more with each dab. Once the wounds were relatively clean, Madam Pomfrey dropped the cloth and selected another potion bottle, this one with a spray top, and started to apply it liberally all over her arm. It was like a blissfully cool rain, draining the fire from her skin. Finally, the pain was manageable and Hermione was able to relax.

"Is that better, dear?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Hermione nodded. "Much." She looked at the wicked burns on her arm, they didn't appear to be getting better, despite the pain being less. "Will it…can you fix it?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Yes, dear, of course. It will just take a little longer this way, that's all. I'm afraid you'll have to stay the night."

Hermione nodded, relieved. "What happened to me?" she asked.

Madam Pomfrey looked distant for a moment. "Yes, as to that," she said in a slightly forced tone, "I must repeat my apology. You see, I…suspected that the reaction would be painful, but I had no way to know how severe it would be. I wish it hadn't of been necessary, but how else was I to diagnose your condition?"

Hermione was taken aback. "My…condition?" She was half afraid to ask. "What do you mean, Madam Pomfrey?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "That is not yet _entirely_ certain, at least," she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, Hermione wasn't expecting good news, "I cannot be sure of every detail, there are several more tests that I must carry out before…"

"Tell me," said Hermione insistently, "please!"

Madam Pomfrey paused. "As I said, I am not wholly certain, but, based on your abnormal reactions, both to my treatment and to the curse that injured you in the first place, I have to conclude that you have a condition known as, Magical Polarity Disorder."

Hermione had never heard of anything that sounded even remotely like that. "Magical what?"

"Magical Polarity Disorder, dear," Madam Pomfrey repeated slowly, though it made no more sense. "It is a cellular condition that leads to an imbalance between the magical energies in your body. You are…aware of magical polarities, are you not?" Hermione shook her head slowly. Madam Pomfrey sighed and shook her head. "I don't know! What do they teach you in this school?" She set the spray bottle down and pulled a fresh cloth from her robes. "Well…I will try to explain. It is a…complex topic, formerly the subject for an entire field of magical study in itself. So you must understand that I haven't time to explain it in detail tonight, but," she eyed Hermione warily, "no doubt you will manage to learn the rest unassisted." Hermione blushed, the whole school it seemed had her number down pat. "Magic," Madam Pomfrey continued, "exists naturally in the world in two states, positive and negative…and that does not mean good and bad," she added, cutting Hermione's comment off, "The two polarities are merely two sides of the same thing, neither can exist without the other, just as light cannot exist without darkness. As it does with most things, nature enforces a…balance between the two. This balance is maintained at a cellular level in all magical beings, including witches and wizards." She paused to clear her throat. "Magical Polarity Disorder is a rare and _temporary_ condition whereby the natural balance between the magical forces in the body is disrupted. The result," she gestured to Hermione's arm, "is that your body reacts…unpredictably when you are hit by a spell. This reaction, added to the actual effects of the spell in question, combine and often can lead to injury." Madam Pomfrey stopped speaking and paused to swap potion bottles. She sighed. "Therefore you see, when I tried to heal you a while ago, I in fact made matters worse, though that was not my intention, of course."

Madam Pomfrey turned Hermione's arm over and started to clean the underside of her forearm. "The question now becomes how far progressed your condition has become. I want you to be honest with me, Hermione, is this the first time you have had an abnormal reaction to a spell or incantation?"

Hermione gulped as she remembered the way she had bruised so viciously when Harry and Ron had cursed her, and how she had lied to Madam Pomfrey about it. She went red. "No," she said quietly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "When was it? The last time you were here with me?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes," she said meekly.

"As I recall, dear, you told me that your wound was caused by a fall. I assume that was a lie?"

"Yes."

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue harshly. "Would you care to tell me why you lied to me?"

Hermione looked at her knees and shook her head. "I don't know…I…well you see…my friend…Ron hit me with a spell, by accident…I…didn't want to get him into trouble," she finished meekly.

Madam Pomfrey just glared at her as she continued to treat her arm. "Oh I don't know," she grumbled, "how am I be expected to look after the people in this school when they won't even tell me when something is wrong?"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione quickly, "I didn't…I mean I didn't know that it was…" she choked up, "something serious." Hermione looked up, hoping against hope that Madam Pomfrey would tell her that it wasn't serious.

"Well I'm sorry dear, but it is."

"Oh," Hermione's heart sank and landed like a lead ball in her belly. She felt her lip start to tremble in fear.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "But," she continued brightly, "it isn't the end of the world. The main thing is we caught it in time. We will now be able to treat you."

Hermione let out the breath she had been holding in relief. She had never heard of an illness or ailment that Madam Pomfrey couldn't treat. Still, the nurse looked very worried. Hermione fought to process what she had just heard. To adjust it so she could find terms to explain it that her befuddled mind could follow. "So," she said after a while, "I'm…allergic to magic…to spells I mean?"

It sounded ridiculous, but she couldn't think of a better way to say it. Madam Pomfrey looked up and tilted her head to the side for a moment, thinking. "Yes," she said slowly, "In a very vague way, that is accurate. But you must understand that you are not 'allergic' in the commonest sense. You are a witch, how could you be? No," she laughed slightly and shook her head, "It is just that your body is…off balance…and therefore it will not react as it should to magic until the balance is restored."

"But why is it off balance? It never was before. What could have happened to me that caused this to happen in the first place?"

Madam Pomfrey paused, for a moment Hermione thought that she was avoiding her eyes. "I don't know is the simple answer. The unfortunate truth is that this condition is so rare that no clear picture of what causes it has been identified. The condition normally passes quickly in any case. Most of the time, treatment is as simple as waiting it out, while being careful to avoid injuring oneself," a pause, "There are, however, occasions where a little…help is needed." She smiled reassuringly. "As I said, there are a number of tests that I must conduct before I can determine if that is the case." Madam Pomfrey put away her potion bottle and took out a large roll of bandages. "There, that's all I can do for now, it should be right as rain by morning," she said brightly as she started to bandage Hermione's arm carefully. "There will be quite a bit of discomfort however," she smiled again, "I'll give you something to help you sleep."

Hermione tensed instantly. "No," she said, sounding panicked. The thought of being drugged to sleep, of being trapped in her nightmares petrified her. For a heartbeat, she considered telling Madam Pomfrey about her dreams, but the words wouldn't come. Whatever else the matron was, she was a very practical, logical witch. Hermione reassured herself that she would simply pass the dreams off as harmless, the product of stress or provide some other mundane explanation. There was, therefore, no need to mention them at all. Then there was the voice in her head earlier…that worried her. Hermione couldn't think of any explanation for it other than that she was simply going nuts. Hermione was sure that was the conclusion Madam Pomfrey would draw, even if she was too much of a good nurse to say it. Hermione would know it by her eyes and she didn't think she could face it, not within five minutes of hearing that she had some bizarre disease that she had never even heard of.

Madam Pomfrey stared at her, making her blush and avoid her eyes. "Why not?" she asked sternly, tying the bandage off.

"I…I don't need it," was Hermione's answer.

Madam Pomfrey lifted her head and stared at her eyes. "I beg to differ, my dear," she said. "All of the make-up in the castle couldn't hide the dark circles beneath those eyes. No," she added with a hint of finality, "a good night's rest and you'll be the better for it." She didn't wait for an argument. Before Hermione could even speak, she had gathered the potion bottles and disappeared behind the curtain. "I'll send someone up to Gryffindor to get you something to sleep in, dear," her voice came from her office, along with the clink of potion bottles as she rummaged.

Hermione felt the sudden urge to bolt for the door. She knew it was silly, where the hell would she go? Still, she wanted to all the same. Her mind threw up the image of the eyes perpetually circling around her. She could almost see them with her waking eyes. Maybe she could fake it, pretend to drink the potion and then spit it out. Hermione shivered and tried to bundle herself up, forgetting in her fear that her arm was hurt. She hissed in pain as the door of the hospital wing burst open. Hermione jumped as a series of swear words in a familiar voice came to her ears.

Ron's red hair made him unmistakable as he backed into the hospital, dragging what appeared to be a rather heavy lump behind him. He grunted with effort as he cleared the doors and headed for the nearest bed. Careful of her arm, Hermione stood and walked toward him, curious as to the nature of his burden. The answer came as she was halfway toward him. "Come on, Neville, for pities sake stop wriggling." Based on the exasperated tone in his voice, Neville wasn't co-operating.

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked from the end of the bed as Ron dumped Neville, face down, onto the mattress. Neville continued to twitch and tremble violently as Ron turned him over.

"I think," Ron grumbled as he tried to restrain the wriggling Neville, "that it's some sort of paralysing charm gone wrong. Oh…come…on….Neville," he grunted, hefting Neville more securely onto the bed. "Shit!" he exclaimed as Neville's twitching hand caught him in the eye. "Forget it," he let Neville go and stepped back, "I hope Madam Pomfrey can sort him out, Snape couldn't," he shook his head.

"Who did this to him?" Hermione asked.

Ron turned to her and frowned. "Talking to me now, are we?" he said coolly.

Hermione sighed. "Oh for heaven's sake, Ron, it was a simple question." She moved round to get a closer look at Neville, careful to keep her injured arm out of the way. "I don't have the energy for a row tonight."

Ron seemed to shrink. "Fair enough," he half-sighed, his eyes settled on her arm, "how is it?"

Hermione barked out a laugh as she held it up for him to see it bandaged to her elbow. "Great!" she said sarcastically, "just bloody great. How do you think it is?" She saw him bristle with annoyance again, and sighed. "Sorry…sorry…just, forget it."

Their conversation was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's return. She set a glass of clear liquid down on the treatment table by Hermione's bed. Hermione looked at it, feeling a lump return to her throat. Madam Pomfrey turned and noticed Neville. "What happened to him?" she asked, sounding annoyed.

"Duelling," was the answer Ron gave. It didn't come as a surprise to Hermione. "Theo Nott hit him with some weird curse that Sn…that Professor Snape couldn't undo, so he told me to bring him here."

Madam Pomfrey bustled over to the bedside and stared down at Neville. "Locomotive Aphasia," she muttered as she pulled out her wand and took aim. "Sedaté!" There was a green flash, and Neville settled down. "There, he'll sleep it off now," Madam Pomfrey turned to Ron, "You aren't hurt?"

"No," Ron shook his head.

"Good, you can go then," Ron turned to leave, but Madam Pomfrey called him back. "Can you arrange to have some nightclothes brought down for Mr Longbottom and Miss Granger?" Ron's eyes darted to Hermione, who had returned to sit on her bed. He nodded and left without a word.

Madam Pomfrey returned to Hermione's bedside and examined the bandages. Apparently satisfied with her work, she nodded. "Right," she said stiffly, "I'll need a sample of your blood to test, best to take it now so I can get to work," she drew her wand, "The sooner I start, the sooner I can devise an effective treatment…should one be necessary that is," she added rapidly, then looked annoyed. "I'm sure you're eager to return to that infernal duelling club as soon as possible." She shook her head and aimed her wand at the table. There was a faint pop, and a pile of apparatus that Hermione didn't recognise appeared there. Madam Pomfrey scowled. "Blasted thing," she picked up the clear glass tube and peered at it, "It has been a while since I used one of these."

"What is that?" Hermione asked, nervously.

"I said I needed to take some of your blood, dear," said Madam Pomfrey matter-of-factly as she picked up the second object. To Hermione's horror, she tugged a small, plastic cap free to reveal a silver needle an inch long. "And I cannot use my wand as I normally would, unless you like agonising pain that is." She shrugged. "This is what muggles call a 'hypodermic' needle." Now Hermione recognised it, muggle doctors and dentists used them. Hermione had never been on the receiving end of one, but she had seen them used. Her father's nurse used them to make people's mouth numb before he fixed their teeth.

"Are you going to…stick that in me?" her voice was a squeak.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "I'm afraid so, have you ever had this done before?" Hermione shook her head, her eyes fixed on the point of the needle. She had seen people have…injections, was the word…before. Most of them hadn't liked it. One boy had even fainted at the mere sight of one of those things. Madam Pomfrey must have picked up on Hermione's mounting fear because she replaced the cover and set the needle down.

"They don't hurt," she said calmly, "not much, just a little pinch, and it's over before you know it."

Hermione felt a cold sweat break out across her forehead. She nodded quickly to show that she understood, and then gave a startled yelp as Madam Pomfrey pulled out a long, rubber cord. She had no idea what that was for. "Relax, dear, I know what I'm doing. I may not be an expert in muggle medicine, but this procedure I have done," she paused, a strange, faraway look came to her eyes for a moment, "many times," she finished, then smiled and laid a settling hand on Hermione's shoulder. "It's alright, dear, really. Perhaps, if you're scared, you should look away."

Hermione did as she was told. She stared at the opposite wall and braced herself. She felt Madam Pomfrey pull her sleeve up and then tie the cord very tightly around her arm. Fear boiled up inside her. She shut her eyes and balled her fist, wanting more than anything for this to be over. Madam Pomfrey held her arm tight and steady. Hermione felt her fingers tingle as the strap stopped her blood from flowing. The fear mounted, what was Madam Pomfrey waiting for?

The strap released, Madam Pomfrey held Hermione's arm for a moment more, and then she too released her. Hermione's eyes slammed open, her head spun round to see what the hell was going on. Her jaw dropped open when she saw that the glass tube that had been empty was now two thirds full of her blood. Madam Pomfrey wiped at a tiny spot of blood just below Hermione's elbow and smiled. "There, all done."

"What? I didn't even feel it."

"I told you it wasn't that bad, didn't I?"

She gathered up the bizarre apparatus and disappeared once more into her office. The door opened again. Hermione turned to see Ginny walk in, her arms bundled with cloth. She saw Hermione and her face went pale as she spotted her arm. Before she could say anything however, Madam Pomfrey appeared at her arm.

"Not another patient?" she asked.

Ginny jumped and spun to face her. "No, Madam Pomfrey, I just brought these from Gryffindor." She indicated the bundle of cloth. "Ron said you wanted them."

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue. "I expected him to fetch them himself, not pass the buck." She reached out and separated a pair of striped blue pyjamas from the bundle in Ginny's arms. "But," she said with a sideways glance at Hermione, "now that you're here, you can assist Miss Granger. I daresay she'll find it awkward to undo her buttons and such one handed. I will see to Mr Longbottom." Hermione blushed slightly at this, she would have preferred to undress alone, but a look at her hand proved Madam Pomfrey's point.

Madam Pomfrey closed the curtains around the bed. Ginny dropped the nightgown she was holding and stepped over to Hermione. "Are you alright? I mean," she smiled, "How are you?" her eyes darted to the bandaged hand, "Does it hurt?"

"No," Hermione lied, "it's just a bit delicate. Really, I don't even think I need to stay here, but I don't have a choice."

Ginny helped Hermione take off her robes. "Well, if Madam Pomfrey says you should stay, then you should stay," she said in a tone that reminded Hermione of Mrs Weasley. "What on Earth did Pansy hit you with? Ron said he heard her cast a stunner, but that wouldn't do that."

Hermione didn't think she could manage to tell Ginny the truth, not tonight. "It can't have been a stunner then, can it?"

"I guess not, maybe Ron misheard or something," said Ginny as she pulled Hermione's tie off and then undid her shirt buttons, grinning as Hermione blushed furiously. "Don't be such a fuddy duddy," she giggled, "I'm not even looking, see?" she turned her head away and undid the last of the buttons. Hermione snarled under her breath and grabbed the nightgown from the bed. She pulled it over her head and let it hang over her shoulders before she let Ginny take off her shirt.

"Ouch!" she hissed as her cuff caught painfully on the bandage, "careful."

"Sorry," Ginny said apologetically, "So, what did you hit Pansy with then? It must have been good, I mean you won the duel, even though," she indicated Hermione's arm as she helped her thread it through the arm of the nightie.

Hermione jumped as Ginny made to unfasten her skirt. "I em, think I can do the rest on my own, Gin, thanks," she shook Ginny off and pulled the nightie down around her with her good hand. "As for the duel…I didn't win. If anything it was a draw," she said.

"That's not they way Ron tells it. He said you had her on all fours in tears and you didn't even appear to have done anything. So, what happened?"

Hermione paused and looked at Ginny. Her mind returned to the duel. It was a blur of anger, rage and then…pain. She played it again, concentrating harder on the moments just before her arm exploded. She had been angry, angrier than she had thought possible. Yes, the memory was clearer now, but there was something…odd about it. The anger hadn't come from her. It was almost as though she had been watching someone else during the duel. But it had been her, she could remember it, just. She remembered the sudden urge to smash Pansy's face in, to tear her limb from limb, to sink her teeth into her neck and tear…a flash of silver light blinded her for a moment as a deafening, roaring snarl filled her ears.

The moment passed as soon as it had come, Hermione shook herself and turned away to finish undressing. Her hand was sweating and her throat was dry. "Are you alright?" Ginny sounded worried.

"I'm fine," said Hermione slowly, taking ragged breaths. "I…don't remember what happened, it all happened to fast."

Ginny sighed and started to gather up Hermione's clothes. "Ok then," she said, "I'll stuff these in the laundry and bring you fresh ones in the morning."

"Thanks," said Hermione. She sat on the bed and her good arm bumped the treatment table. Her eyes settled on the potion that Madam Pomfrey had left out for her, the one to knock her out, and she swallowed a rather nasty comment. As she bent down and caught the scent of cinnamon from it, an idea occurred to her. She looked on her locker for her wand, but it was nowhere in sight. 'Blast! Where is it?' She had no idea where it was; she hadn't seen it since the duel. "Gin," she whispered, before Ginny had time to leave, "is my wand in my robes?"

Ginny laid the robes onto the bed and searched them. "No, not that I see."

"Shit," Hermione hissed. It must have been in her pocket when she had arrived, where else could it have gotten to. Madam Pomfrey must have taken it, it was the only answer, though Hermione couldn't think why. Her mind worked fast. "Have you got yours with you?"

Ginny frowned at her. "Yes, why?"

"Shhh," Hermione stood up and extended her hand. "No time for that, just let me have it for a second." Hermione strained to hear what Madam Pomfrey was doing. Based on the grunts she could make out, the nurse was still wrestling the immobile Neville into his pyjamas. Ginny dropped her wand into Hermione's hand, still frowning. "Keep an eye out," Hermione whispered, looking over toward the gap in the curtains. She returned her attention to the potion as Ginny took position. Her initial idea had been to vanish the potion and claim to have drunk it, but that might not wash. Her mind raced, and then the solution came to her. She dipped the wand into the glass and whispered, "Aquatinus!" The potion bubbled for a second, and then settled. Hermione leant down and sniffed it. It had no scent. It was now just water, perfect.

The mission accomplished, she handed Ginny back her wand. Still perplexed, Ginny left through the curtains. A little over five quiet minutes later, Hermione relished in consuming the glass of water in one go under Madam Pomfrey's watching eyes, making a fair attempt at a disgruntled scowl at the taste.

"Have a pleasant night," said Madam Pomfrey as she extinguished the candles.

"You too," said Hermione sleepily. 'Yeah right!' she thought to herself as she feigned sleep and listened to the diminishing footsteps.

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Etean loosened his tie as he said the password and waited for the wall to withdraw. He walked inside to find the sixth year Slytherins huddled around the fireplace, surrounded by bottles of wine in various states of consumption. By the look of some of them, they hadn't been going easy in the half hour or so since Etean had been talking to Snape. Nott had a distinct glassy look about him and Annabelle was clearly plastered. The party, if that was the right word for it, hadn't spread to the rest of Slytherin house, most of the others were lolling about in small clumps, minding their own business. Etean passed by Blaise, his normal, silent self hunched in a corner removed from the others, bent over his book of quidditch tactics. The rest, Draco included, were talking. Etean didn't need to hear much to figure out what about. "Well," said Nott brightly, handing his empty glass to Annabelle to refill for him and joining his hands behind his head as he watched her bend forward, "you can say what you like, it was an entertaining evening. I don't think a Gryffindor won a single match." He finished with a grin.

Etean noticed with a degree of satisfaction that Nott's grin faded slightly when he saw him. Annabelle turned and sprawled across his lap. "Sorry I missed it," she said with a slight slur, "their fifth years always flatten us," she paused to swig heavily from her own gold trimmed goblet, "I swear, if Ginny Weasley knocks me out one more time I'll..." But what she would do, she never said. She stopped dead when she saw Etean, after a moment to recover, she beamed drunkenly at him. "Ah," she said, saluting with her glass, "If it isn't our glor...," she hiccoughed, "glorious Duelling Champion. I hear you flattened Potter yet again. Well done, my lord."

Etean glared at her; Millicent giggled and turned round to face her. "How many of those have you had, Annabelle?"

Annabelle shrugged and took another swig. Etean scoffed, if his memory served, Annabelle never could hold her wine. He loosened his tie further and dropped into an empty chair by the fire. "It's all smiles in here tonight," he said with a curious look toward Draco and Pansy, who certainly weren't smiling.

Millicent turned on her knees and picked up a full wine glass that had apparently been waiting for Etean. She held it out to him with a smile. "Why did Snape keep you back?" she asked.

Draco sat forward. Etean saw the question coming a mile off. "Did he say anything about…"

"What happened?" Etean cut him off and accepted the glass. "No, he didn't," he answered, looking down at her squatting on the mat by the fire. "He just had some extra duties to dole out and he felt at though I deserved to have my share."

"Share of what?" slurred Annabelle.

Etean tasted the wine, and nearly spat it out again. Someone had been messing with it, though he was sure that the culprit would have referred to it as 'improving.' Far from being a delicate, tasteful drop, it was about an inch short of drain cleaner. It certainly explained how drunken Annabelle was, and how the rest of them would be in short order at this rate. He took another sip and forced it down. "Snape has to go to London on some errand or other," he drawled, not having to try to sound bored, "and he will, therefore, be unable to supervise the Duelling Club meetings for the rest of the week. So he asked me and that Ravenclaw girl…Chang is it…the Seventh Year Champion?" He looked to Draco, who nodded at him. He seemed ready to bolt for the door at any second. Etean continued, "We're to take charge with the third years tomorrow, and then the first years on Thursday."

"Why you?" asked Millicent, blushing when Etean frowned at her, "I mean, why not Dumbledore or one of the other teachers?"

Etean set his glass down and shrugged. "You tell me and then we'll both know. Apparently none of them have the time, they are all busy."

"Busy doing what?"

'Nosy little whelp, this one,' Etean sent to Draco, getting no more than a raised eyebrow in response. Etean looked down at Millicent and rolled his eyes. "How the hell should I know, and why the hell would I care? It isn't like it'll kill me to look after a few kiddies while they try to blow one another up now, is it?"

"If I could interrupt this charming conversation," said Nott, cutting off Millicent's answer, "we were discussing Granger and the little episode earlier."

There was a surge of emotion from Draco at this. 'Easy boy,' Etean sent to him in an attempt to calm him. Etean gave Nott a curious look. "Oh we were, were we?" Etean asked calmly. Nott stared back at him, his eyes betraying a hint of fear.

"Yes," Annabelle said brightly, "we were," she paused to gulp down some more wine, "hey…did you see what the Mudblood did to Pansy?"

'Don't…call…her…that.' The thought from Draco was so clear that Etean almost thought he had said it aloud. Etean kept his eyes on Nott for several seconds, and then looked to Pansy. She was curled up in a ball in Draco's arms, asleep it seemed. Draco looked tense, though Etean could sense that he was curious to hear the answer. "No," said Etean, sitting back and sighing, "I didn't. It was as big a shock to me as it was to you." He nodded to Pansy. "Still spaced out is she?"

Draco frowned and nodded. 'What really happened?' He sent the question that Etean had been expecting.

Etean covered the moment he took to think by taking another mouthful of the poisonous wine. 'The truth, Draco, is that I don't know. I saw no more of what happened than you did,' he answered, careful to keep the extent of his suspicion from the thought. 'The duel started. Pansy tried to disarm Granger…then all hell broke out.'

'Did you see how badly Hermione was hurt?'

Etean paused, even hearing the name ground on his nerves. 'No,' he sent, unable to say more. 'If anything, I saw less than you did.'

Draco sighed and sat back, chewing his knuckle as Annabelle stood up and walked, slightly unsteadily, over to his couch. She jabbed Pansy in the shoulder, at once waking her and making her recoil in obvious fear.

"Leave me alone," she whimpered, real terror in her voice. Etean was surprised by the amount of it. His curiosity about the events earlier was elevated a notch.

Annabelle ignored Pansy's wailing order to leave her be. "Do you want something to drink, Pansy," she waved her glass of wine beneath Pansy's nose. Pansy didn't answer. Instead she turned and buried her head into Draco's robes. "I guess that's a 'no' then," Annabelle shrugged and turned back to plonk herself down onto Nott's lap once more. Draco seemed to grow even more uncomfortable in his seat with the way that Pansy squashed herself into him with each passing second. Etean knew that he would rather be somewhere else, and he could guess where. Though, given how upset Pansy was, if Draco left now, she'd lose it altogether.

'Settle,' Etean sent him, suppressing a frown. 'You won't do any good tearing out of here like a crazed bull, believe me.' Draco simply scowled at him in return.

"Maybe," said Millicent quietly, "she should go to the hospital, Madam Pomfrey might be able to help her."

It sounded like a good idea; most of the Slytherins present nodded. Draco's eyes danced as he recognised an opportunity. He was about to offer to escort Pansy to the hospital when she suddenly sat bolt upright. "No!" she roared at Millicent, "I'm not going to the hospital." Etean noticed that she was shaking, her skin was glistening with a sudden sweat. "Sh…she's there, that's where they took her. I'm not going anywhere near her. I'm…." her voice failed her, she stared, thunderstruck at Millicent for a moment then fell back and hurled herself into Draco's arms. Her outburst left the room in stunned silence, she had even attracted the attention of a number of the other students, who looked up from their respective activities and stared in her direction. Millicent's jaw hung open in shock. She remained gaping like that for several moments, staring at the other surprised faces.

Annabelle was the first to speak. "Was she referring…to Granger?"

Etean had no doubt that she had been, the image of Granger had flooded out of her as she had been talking. The other Slytherins seemed to share Etean's belief without any need for proof. "I think so," Millicent said, clearly in disbelief. She shuffled closer to Pansy and laid her hand on her knee. "Are you…scared…of Granger, Pansy?"

Pansy's head moved up and down. Etean got the impression that she was nodding.

'I have to get out of here,' Draco sent to Etean, losing the last of his mental composure, 'I have to know what happened.'

'And we'll find out,' Etean sent him, with a little calming force to steady his mind, 'but not that way. Keep calm…let these idiots drink themselves into a stupor first, keep calm!'

'Why the hell should I?' Draco responded, anger replacing his worry.

Etean stared at him. 'Because, we have to live with these idiots. And you storming out of here after a girl that, so far as they know, you can't stand will not make that any easier, not tonight!'

Draco didn't answer. Etean's focus returned to the others. The entire exchange with Draco had taken less than a second. Nott let out a quiet, cautious laugh. "Well," he said, "I for one am now really curious," he leaned forward, nearly unseating Annabelle. "Just what the hell did she do to you, Parkinson?" Etean watched his expression shift to a mask of false curiosity, hiding his real emotions. He spared a glance at Draco: he was staring straight ahead, his face a mask of hidden thoughts.

After a moment, Pansy pulled her face back from Draco a little. "It was hor…horrible," was all she said before collapsing into another fit of wailing sobs and buried her face in Draco's neck again. Draco scowled, still frustrated further.

"What was it, Pansy?" Millicent asked again, "What did that little Mudblood bitch hit you with?"

Etean felt Draco tense at the sound of Millicent insulting Granger. 'Easy,' he sent warily, 'Believe me, an outburst here won't help matters.'

Draco didn't listen. He didn't, however, get a chance to respond before Pansy wailed in his ear. "I…I don't want to talk about it." Her voice was muffled by Draco's robes.

'Then stop whinging about it!' The thought exploded in Draco's head. He looked at Etean. 'Help me get the hell out of here, mate.'

Etean knew that Draco was nearing the end of his tether. Pansy was pawing and tugging at his shirt and crying. If Draco lost his temper and started roaring his head off, there would be no living in Slytherin House. But, one problem at a time: first, Pansy, in whose head an answer to the riddle may lie. Etean reached out to her and touched her mind. A chaotic jumble of fearful thoughts and images were repeating over and over, showing no signs of slowing. Pansy was reliving the final moments of her duel with Granger. The rapid flash of events made no sense to Etean. It was all too churned up and jarred. Gently, he applied pressure, settling her mind and pushing her into unconsciousness. As the thoughts faded and peace claimed her mind, he took hold of the image and pulled it from her, taking one of the thousand pieces of the memory from her mind. It landed hard, accelerated to the speed of Etean's own thoughts and flashed across his eyes. Etean wasn't able to suppress a tiny shudder before he managed to bottle it up. He would examine it later and figure out just what the hell was going on. It was too soon, the process couldn't progress that fast. Returning his attention to the present, he realised that Draco was slowly building toward an explosion. Each sly remark or insult the Slytherins made about Granger was edging him closer to breaking point. Now would be a good time to change the subject, but the other Slytherins were clearly very much engaged in the conversation.

"I never knew she had it in her," Annabelle said, emptying her glass.

Millicent scowled. "Had what in her? We don't even know what she did. I didn't see her cast a spell, did you?" she looked around. Draco, like the others, shook his head, Etean saw his jaw tighten.

"It could have been anything for all we know," said Nott. "None of us heard the enchantment and," he pointed at Pansy, "she isn't likely to tell us anytime soon. Trust me, there is more to her than meets the eye. She isn't just Potter's lackey, though she likes to pretend that she is. Who knows what goes on in her head when she's lost in those precious books of hers?"

Etean cast a wary eye at Nott. The alcohol pulsing in his veins was clearly slowing his mind. The wall wasn't quite as stable now. Etean could see the wicked ideas popping into his head. If Draco could see them too…But Draco was distracted. He was sitting there with his eyes closed, breathing slowly in an attempt to keep his temper at bay. Etean searched for a way to avert the coming storm. His mind settled on Blaise behind him. He could sense his growing annoyance at the conversation, and his desire to discuss his favourite subject, quidditch.

The storm blew closer. Annabelle cast an examining eye at Pansy as she stood up to refill her wineglass. Etean's mind teased an idea into shape. Blaise had never really liked Annabelle much, or rather, liked her too much for his comfort. The way she was carrying on was wearing on his nerves. Raw nerves, just what was needed. 'Perfect!'

Annabelle stood her full five feet three as she took a heavy drink. "Who knows what kind of things she found in those books?" she slurred, "I mean, there are things in some of those that will make your hair curl. Personally, I'm not that surprised. I've always suspected that her goody-two-shoes act was all a front. Pretending butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, that she was the good one out of the three, that she was so much smarter than the rest of us. Well," she grinned stupidly, "she got her comeuppance tonight, didn't she? Good on you Pansy," she leaned over to slap Pansy on the shoulder and missed. Nott had to grab hold of her to keep her from falling down. "Get off!" she slapped at him and then snatched his wine glass and draining it, "Serves…serves her right if she…HICK…loses her arm, the little hag. There all the same those Mudbloods, underneath their skin, they aren't two steps up from animals."

That was it, Draco could take no more. He grabbed hold of Pansy and looked like he was about to hurl her off him so he could launch himself at Annabelle. Etean seized him mentally. 'Settle down!' he bellowed while at the same time, with a mental push, he spurred Blaise into the conversation.

There was a thud as Blaise slammed his fist on the arm of his chair. "Oh for pity's sake," he said in an exasperated snarl, "will you ever shut that rambling cow up, Theo? Some of us are trying to get some work done."

The outburst was enough to distract Draco. His head spun along with all the others to look over at Blaise. Annabelle stood up, knocking Millicent's wine glass over in the process. "I hope, for your sake Za..Zabini, that that…remark wasn't referring to me."

Blaise got to his feet. "You bet it was Annabelle, do you ever shut up?"

"Shut up? Wh…what the hell do you m…mean?" The rest of the Common Room was well and truly enthralled in the conversation now. They could see the screaming match coming…or the bloodbath…either way, fun!

"I mean," Blaise answered, walking forward, "that I have been sitting here for the last hour listening to you prattle on and on about nonsense and I've had enough. In Merlin's name, it's bad enough to listen to that whining voice of yours when you have something interesting to say, but now?" He sighed. "Did it ever occur to you that not everyone here wants to hear your opinions about Granger…or about anything else for that matter? Maybe…just maybe we have other things that we'd like to talk about."

An evil grin broke through onto Annabelle's face. "Oh I see, our little Cap-i-poo wants to talk about quidditch, does he?" The grin vanished. "For fuck's sake, Zabini, change the record, will you? I swear, if I hear you say the word 'quaffle' one more time, I'll swing for you."

"Not if I swing for you first, you won't. I'm starting to think that that may just be the only way to shut you up," he shook his head and turned his back on her, "And excuse me if I have something _interesting_ to talk about. Something with a touch more sophistication than gossiping about some stuck up mudblood! But of course," Blaise smiled as he looked around at his audience, seeking approval, "if that's too much for the likes of you, we can talk about something simpler, like daffodils or ladybirds or…oh I don't know, anything that isn't Hermione fucking Granger." Blaise sat down heavily in his chair and looked up at Annabelle with a cold, hard expression.

Annabelle wobbled on her feet as she stared, incensed at Blaise. "Are you just going to sit there, Theo, and let this bastard talk to me like that?"

"Easy there Blaise," said Nott in half-serious tone, spurred lazily into action, "There is no need to turn on one another."

"Oh," said Blaise, rolling his eyes, "here we go. Theo Nott comes rushing in to save his girlfriend. Tell me," he asked as though Annabelle wasn't even there, "how do you put up with her? I mean," he cast a disapproving eye over Annabelle, who was still rooted to the spot with rage, "I'm sure she has her uses, but how do you stop yourself from strangling her?"

Annabelle leaped forward with the suddenness of a coiled serpent striking for her prey. Her hands were an inch from closing on Blaise's throat before Nott caught her. The other Slytherins started to gather round for a better view of the action as Nott struggled to pull Annabelle back. Blaise blinked for a moment, then realised what was happening and surged forward to get at Annabelle, which he did quite easily seeing as how nobody was attempting to stop him. With a great deal of shoving and effort, Nott managed to get himself between the two of them. Etean felt a satisfied smile spread across his lips as he watched the chaos, noticing as he did that nobody seemed to be offering to help Nott separate the warring couple. He stood up and moved away as a flailing arm missed his ear by inches.

'Right,' he sent to Draco, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the sport, 'I'll leave you to enjoy the show.'

Draco frowned. 'Where are you off to?'

'I have work to do.' Etean drained his glass, scowling at the taste. 'This should be enough of a distraction to allow you to sneak out without being noticed. Wait for the fireworks to settle and then follow me.'

Etean left the Common Room, smirking at the noise of the row still raging behind him. From what he heard, Annabelle had managed to land a heavy blow. The trouble was, it was Nott she had walloped, not Blaise. 'Good girl, give him another one.' Etean smiled as the door closed. He knew full well that Draco wouldn't follow him, that he'd run off to find Granger at the earliest opportunity. But one thing at a time, Etean did have work to do. He didn't bother with his cloak, preferring the challenge of moving stealthily without it.

Ducking and dodging from shadow to shadow, pausing to listen for sounds of movement, it took him a full ten minutes to reach the Training Room entrance. Inside, Etean paused, hoping that he was wrong. He shook his head and pulled Pansy's memory out of the deep, dark hole in which he had buried it. He let it expand and pushed it out into the Ether. The room took over and the memory took shape. There was a confusing whirling motion as the walls faded away to be replaced by an image of the Great Hall. The image solidified, it appeared now as though he was standing on the duelling table, looking at the scene from earlier as though he was Pansy. The image remained, frozen in place as Etean stepped aside. He stepped up to the referee's lectern and saw Snape standing there, about to start the duel. Etean turned and mentally summoned an image of Pansy to take her place and complete the scene. He looked around, everything was ready, 'Here we go,' and he set the scene in motion.

"Three…Two…One," the image of Snape counted down.

Pansy took a step forward, raised her wand and roared, "Expeliarmus!" at the top of her voice. There was a flash a hundred times as bright as Etean remembered it and then both Pansy and Granger screamed. Etean froze the moment, took a second to look at the expression of confusion on his own face then stepped forward. Pansy was on her knees with her hands covering her face while Granger was on her back, cradling her arm. The image of Granger was all but a washy shadow. Etean sighed, Pansy didn't have that good a memory of her, it seemed. Etean frowned for a moment before an idea occurred to him. He concentrated and pushed his own memory of the event into the Ether. The two memories mingled, the image of the room shifted. Details appeared, faces sharpened. Etean reached out, reset the scene and allowed it to play again, this time viewing it from the opposite side. The duel started, there was a flash and then it froze again.

Etean let out a harsh swear and dropped off the table. He sat on the edge, looking at the image of Draco. "Did you see what the hell happened?" he asked, then laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the question. Etean played it again, and again, convinced that he was missing something. He saw nothing each time until, on the thirteenth viewing, he noticed an odd shape within the flash of light, the shape of something moving. Frowning, Etean reached out and slowed the image down as the flash detonated. Now he saw it. The flash wasn't just a shapeless burst of light, it was a coherent thing, leaping out of Granger and hurtling toward Pansy faster than anything Etean had ever seen. Etean looked up Granger, and his heart nearly stopped. In slow motion, the golden flash of light in her eyes was as clear as crystal. It lasted for only a heartbeat, but it was there, moments before the flash. Etean climbed up onto the table and moved slowly toward her, ignoring the flash as it repeated over and over. He circled round her, watching every twitch, every movement, feeling a sense of dread mixed with revulsion at being so near her, even her image. Etean reached out and stopped the scene completely and turned his attention to the flash. What the hell was it? He had a disturbing feeling that he knew, but, from this angle it wasn't clear. Pansy was the only one who had seen the flash, and she only saw it face on. Etean walked over, pushing the image of Pansy out of the way so he could take her place. He took a breath and turned.

"Oh hell!" he sighed as he looked down into the wolf's silver eyes. A monster of a thing, made entirely of burning white fire, it was twice the size of any wolf Etean had ever seen and had bared fangs over two inches long. No wonder Pansy was in shock, anyone would be after seeing that thing charging at them. A sight like that would petrify a cave troll. Etean's eyes moved up to Granger, the golden glow in her eyes had almost faded away, leaving them their normal honey brown. She couldn't be aware of it, Etean doubted if she even realised that she had done it, but one thing was clear. It had begun, and far sooner than it should have. 'Great, just great' Etean thought as he waved a hand and banished the image to oblivion. "As if I don't have enough to worry about," he said aloud.

Etean suddenly felt the urge to get out of the room. It was as though the image of Granger was still there, watching him. An anger and a rage like the one he had felt on his first night in Hogwarts threatened to take hold of him. But the feeling couldn't take hold, he wouldn't let it. 'No, Lord Etean, you have a job to do, you know you have a job…to…do!' With a terrible finality, the wall slammed home and his head was quiet. All quiet…silence! He couldn't bear it for a moment longer. He shook his head and left the Training Room, not bothering with stealth once he was away from the corridor. He had reached the passage outside the Common Room when, as if on cue, the door opened and Draco appeared. He turned and saw Etean, making him jump.

"I…was just on my way to follow you," Draco lied, and not very well.

Etean forced his breath to slow before he spoke. "Yes, I believe that alright," he cast an eye at the door, "What did I miss?"

Draco paused for a moment, and then sniggered. "You want to see the mess you've caused." Draco grinned. "Annabelle got one of her teeth chipped. You should have heard her,"

Etean shook himself and smiled. "Blaise got that mad, did he?"

"No," Draco laughed. "That's the funny thing, Blaise never touched her, Theo saw to that. Annabelle was trying her best though, she's stronger than she looks." He shook his head. "Anyway, there were that many random arms flailing about that it was hard to tell what actually happened, but it appears that Annabelle accidentally hit Theo a rather nasty kick in the old family jewels." Both boys winced. "Needless to say, he was none too pleased. He yelled at her and she went to storm off but," he laughed again, "she was so drunk that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going and she tripped over Millicent. It was priceless!"

Etean imagined the scene, it did sound amusing. "Sorry I missed it," he laughed.

"Missed it? You caused it!"

"Moi?" said Etean in mock shock. "You can't blame me for that."

Draco smirked. "Don't try to deny it, you made Blaise lose his rag with Annabelle, just to stop me from knocking her block off, though I wish you hadn't. She deserved it, the little slut," Etean was about to say something, but Draco waved him off. "I know, I know, if you hadn't stopped me, I would have probably have said some things that I'd have regretted."

"I did think that you starting a holy war in Granger's defence would, shall we say, not have gone down well? It would certainly have raised an eyebrow or two amongst your housemates."

"To hell with them," Draco spat. "I couldn't care less what they think. I'm not ashamed of liking Hermione if that's what you're thinking."

Etean could see in his eyes that Draco meant what he was saying, that he really didn't care about what the others thought of him anymore. Etean couldn't help but feel a sense of achievement at that. He had actually managed to turn a spineless, self obsessed prat into someone with a touch of genuine character. Etean shook his head. "I wasn't actually thinking that at all, Draco. I can't say that I understand it, but I know that your…feelings for Granger are real, though I won't presume to define them more specifically. But," he said carefully, "think about it for a moment. You and Granger…well it will be quite a surprise for the rest of the world, don't you think? And not exactly a pleasant one for quite a few people that you have to live with."

Draco scoffed. "Like I said, to hell with them."

"And what about me?"

"What about you?"

Etean laughed. "I have to live with them, too, Draco, and I for one don't want to be anywhere near the blast zone when you drop that particular bomb." He sighed. "Look, it's your business, tell them, don't tell them, whatever. Just don't do it when I'm around, ok?"

"Fine," Draco paused, "but if it's peace and quiet you want, I doubt that you're going to get it. After tonight's little shenanigans, life in Slytherin will be anything but pleasant, for the next few days at least."

Etean nodded. "I know," then another thought occurred to him, "and it will make tomorrows training session a load of fun, that's for sure."

Draco nodded. "Oh yeah, you did a good job on the team, now that I think of it. Theo and Blaise are still at each other's throats and Annabelle wasn't talking to either of them. That's the keeper and two chasers at loggerheads, doesn't leave much of a team to play Gryffindor."

"I know." Etean shook his head, maybe the row could have been better directed. "What about the rest? Where are they now?"

"Millicent's gone off with Annabelle, I think they were going to one of the bathrooms to try and re-attach Annabelle's tooth. The rest dispersed once the row had died." His smirk faded. "And Pansy…well, I left her asleep on the sofa." Draco paused and looked at Etean. "You really don't know what happened?"

"No," Etean said, straight-faced, "I haven't a clue, honestly."

Draco looked pensive. "I don't get it. Pansy just isn't that good of a duellist. How the hell did she put enough force into that disarming charm to hurt Hermione…" he trailed off and became distant for a moment, "so severely?"

Draco's head and heart went elsewhere. Etean sighed. "Go on…go and find her. I'll see you later," and mentally, he added, 'We do have a lot of work still to do, you and I!'


	43. Playing the Game

Hermione sighed and stared at the floor of the hospital wing. How many samples of her blood would Madam Pomfrey need? The nurse tugged the tourniquet free. Her grip remained for a moment then it too disappeared. Hermione turned her head just in time to see the nurse tuck the small vial of blood into the pocket of her robes and then smile at her.

"Thank you, dear, you can go now," Madam Pomfrey nodded and left. Hermione watched her go for a moment, and then tugged her sleeve down and fastened her cuff. The hospital was deserted. Hermione, for the moment at least, was alone. It occurred to her that she hadn't been alone all week. Wherever she went, it was as though there was someone with her, watching her. Ok, most of the time there had been, her housemates or Draco. But even then, there was something else, a presence she couldn't identify. The voice had been silent since the duel, her reflection hadn't spoken to her again, but that was little comfort, the fear of it remained. It had happened once, would it happen again? Hermione trembled at the thought, she wanted desperately not to be, but she was scared. How could she not be? Pansy Parkinson was still so shaken by whatever Hermione, or the voice, had done to her that she shrieked and ran in the opposite direction whenever they so much as made eye contact, and Pansy wasn't alone in her fear. People who before had barely even noticed Hermione Granger now suddenly jumped out of her way as she walked through the corridors, or just stopped and stared. To make matters worse, the mystery surrounding the duel had stirred the whispering rumour mongers into a frenzy. Already, Hermione had heard a dozen different versions of the event from various people, which, in her confusion, she could neither confirm as accurate nor deny as rubbish. Her friends hadn't helped much either. Ever since the duel, they had pestered her, asking questions to which she had no answer, pressing for details that she couldn't give them. They hadn't believed her when she had told them the truth; that she really, honestly had no idea what had happened during her duel with Pansy. In the end she had simply refused to answer them, even with a denial.

As she stood and took up her bag, the thought occurred to her that, maybe, if she explained to them that she was ill, they might leave her alone. Thus far, she hadn't so much as mentioned her illness…not to anyone. She hadn't been able to find the words. Hermione chewed her lip; no, she couldn't do that. They wouldn't understand it, so it would only scare them. How could they understand it? How could she explain something to them when she didn't understand it herself? She had tried to make sense of the whole thing, had done little else all week in fact, but to no avail.

It was a mystery, and an insurmountable one from where Hermione stood. Madam Pomfrey had helped her all she could, answering her questions and telling her in what books she might find more of the details she sought, but the simple truth was that Magical Polarity Disorder was a little known and almost completely mysterious illness. Over the last few days, she had read about only one hundred and seven people in the last century that had suffered with MPD. With so few cases, there had been precious little for the medi-wizards to go on in their search for an effective treatment. Hermione had found plenty of descriptions of what her illness wasn't, but nothing conclusive about what it was. It wasn't a virus, nor was it a bacterial illness, it didn't appear to be related to environment or lifestyle, there was simply no explanation for it. In fact it was something of a miracle that Madam Pomfrey had recognised the symptoms at all.

The one single consolation that all her reading had given her was that, just as Madam Pomfrey had told her, the condition was temporary. Most people suffered from it for only a matter of weeks before it appeared to correct itself. The most severe case that Hermione had come across, that of Natalie Hentley forty years ago had required her to take a series of potions and remedies that restored the magical balance in her cells over a period of around six months. Hermione had mentioned this to Madam Pomfrey only to be assured that her case was nowhere near that severe as yet, and that more tests would be needed to determine if it would get that far before it had run its course. Hence, the blood samples. This was the third one that Hermione had given, and she was still no more used to that damned needle than she had been the first time. She shivered as she opened the door of the hospital and left. The corridor outside was deserted. Hermione folded her arms about herself and headed down toward the Entrance Hall. She was lost in her own thoughts and so was taken completely by surprise when Draco appeared beside her.

"Fuck me!" she yelped.

Draco grinned. "Pardon?"

"You scared the hell out of me," Hermione slapped at his shoulder, "Where did you spring from?"

Draco grinned. "I was standing right there," he pointed toward a dark spot in the shadow of a large statue, "Waiting for you to come out," he laughed, "I don't know how you missed me," he added innocently.

Hermione glared at him. "You were hiding, waiting to jump out and scare me," she slapped him again, playfully, "Don't try to deny it."

He was just joking about, his way of cheering her up. Hermione knew that, but it didn't mean he was going to get away with it. Putting on an exaggerated scowl, she brushed past him and stormed off down the corridor, folding her arms across her chest. Draco's heels clicked sharply on the tiles as he turned to chase her. From the sound, he was skipping. He slowed his pace to match hers as he drew level with her. "Now don't get all huffy, just because I scared you. Anyone would think that you didn't like it."

"Why would I like being scared, Draco?" she said, trying to sound annoyed.

"A little fright can be good for the soul, Hermione," he said, then he leaned close to her and whispered, "amongst…other things."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the sly little grin on his face. That along with the sound of his voice mewing in her ear made it next to impossible for her to keep her face straight. Hermione held her frown for several seconds as he continued to stare at her, and then she smiled. "That's better," he said in triumph. Draco moved around behind her, running his fingers across her bum as he passed. Hermione shivered, her smile widened. Draco! How the hell did he always manage to make her feel so silly inside? All he had to do was look at her these days and her stomach quivered. How did he do it? Hermione continued to smile; she didn't really care. He did, and that was all that mattered. Despite everything that was going on in her head, having him near her made her feel good. That was all he had to do, just stand there.

Her mind flew back to Tuesday night. She remembered lying in the hospital bed pretending to be asleep and suddenly becoming aware of him beside her, watching over her like he was her very own guardian angel. Thinking of it now brought a lump to her throat, just as it had then. He hadn't made a sound or tried to wake her, nor had she opened her eyes or given him the slightest sign that she knew he was there, that would have spoiled it. It was a perfect memory, and they were a thing to be cherished. She played again as she listened to him chatter on about nothing in particular. It was perfect, he had been perfect. He had just stood there, still as a statue in complete silence until sleep had finally claimed her and the eyes had returned to take her from him.

A shudder ran through her and she stopped in her tracks, the mere memory of the dream shattering her good mood. Draco picked up on it, he appeared in front of her and took hold of her, his fingers gently squeezing her hips. "Hey, what is it?"

"Nothing," Hermione answered with a forced smile. Draco, dear Draco, he hadn't a clue either. She hadn't managed to find the words to tell her friends about her illness, but she hadn't even been able to find the will to _try_ and tell him. Maybe keeping it a secret didn't make sense, she had often mused to herself. It wasn't as if there was anything to be frightened of, but she was frightened. There had been moments when she had wanted to tell him, but she just couldn't. The way he listened without judgment or assumption when she told him about her dreams was something she would be eternally grateful for, and she knew in her heart that he would give her the same support about her illness. But he already had too much pain in his life as it was. She wasn't about to heap more of her own misery onto his plate.

So, the secret remained. She had told Draco that she was repeatedly returning to see Madam Pomfrey for checkups about her duelling injury, which, she had convinced herself to ease her conscience, was almost the truth. Thus far, he seemed to believe her, but lying to him when he showed such trust in her still hurt. So, in a bid to maintain what little shreds of her sanity remained, Hermione had vowed not to even mention anything related to her illness to him if it were possible to avoid it. Come to think of it, "Hold on," she said, frowning at him, "how did you find me? I don't remember telling you that I was going to see the nurse."

"You didn't," Draco drew back nervously, "I'm just that good," he said with a wavering smile.

"Don't lie to me, Draco," she stepped toward him, "How did you find me?"

He avoided her eyes. "A little bird told me?" he said it in a tone that showed how little he expected it to work.

"Draco…" Hermione added a little force to her tone.

Draco's eyes rolled in their sockets. "Alright, I did a Locator Charm, happy?"

"Why?" said Hermione.

"Well," Draco paused, "I went to the library, but you weren't there. I looked in the Prefects Common room, the Great Hall and about a dozen other places, but I couldn't find you…"

He trailed off. "That still doesn't answer my question," Hermione saw embarrassment in his eyes, she smiled again, "why were you looking for me in the first place?"

Draco sighed. "Fine," he leaned forward and took hold of her shoulders, "I wanted to see you, I…missed you. There, I said it," he released her and stepped back, "And I swear, if you laugh at me, I will hex you into next year," he turned on his heel to hide his embarrassed blush and walked off.

The giddy feeling inside Hermione came back. She wanted to smile even wider, but that wasn't possible without damaging her face. She sped up, catching Draco as he turned the corner into the corridor that led to the Entrance Hall. "What's your rush?" she pinched his hip, making him twitch, "I thought you said you missed me," she giggled.

"I did," Draco sighed, "and I told you not to laugh."

He sounded hurt. Hermione forced her face to settle. "I'm not laughing," he scoffed, "no really," she moved closer to him, "I think its…sweet." Draco looked at her, frowning for a moment, then shook his head in apparent disgust. Hermione was confused. "What?"

"You do realise that no girl has called me sweet before?"

"Never?" He shook his head. Hermione found this hard to believe. "Not even one of your other girlfriends?" Hermione gulped inside but manage to hide it. She had said the 'G' word.

If Draco noticed, he didn't make any mention of it. He merely scoffed. "None of them would have dared."

The coldness in his voice struck a chord in Hermione. She saw in it a vestige of the old Draco that still remained in him. That thought brought another. "Not even Pansy?" The question was out of her mouth before she knew it.

Draco tensed, all trace of mirth vanished from his face. "No," his tone was all business now, "never. I told you, Hermione, me and Pansy are…"

He stopped as Hermione covered his lips. "I know…you told me already. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned her at all."

Draco pulled her fingers away. "I don't have any feelings for her anymore," he repeated for the hundredth time.

"I know," she said. Hermione did know. Any doubts she had had were gone, Draco had destroyed them completely. First, there was his silent vigil over her hospital bed, which of course, as far as he knew, she was completely unaware of. That knowledge was Hermione's secret little treasure and she was going to keep it that way. Apart from that, Draco seemed to feel that she continually needed proof that he liked her, despite her assurances to the contrary. Ever since she had left the hospital he had hovered around her, offering to carry her books, escorting her to class, the works. It was almost as though he was determined to make a point of lavishing her with attention in full view of everyone, and they had started to notice. Heads were starting to turn, eyes starting to stare. Though nobody seemed to have realised the true nature of their…whatever it was they had going on, the attention was enough to make Hermione uncomfortable. She did like _his_ attention though. She smiled at him. "Can we change the subject?"

"Fine," Draco nodded, "Consider it changed. So…where were you headed?"

Hermione breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Gryffindor, since you asked."

"Fancy some company? It is a long walk," he said with a grin.

Hermione smiled. "Alright then." The trip up to Gryffindor would take longer if she strolled along with Draco, but she suddenly wasn't in a hurry.

Draco stepped back, gestured for her to take the lead and then draped his arm around her. Hermione stopped dead. Nothing he had said or done; none of his behaviour during the week had prepared her for it. Such an open display of affection was a degree of magnitude beyond anything else.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him, blushing instantly.

Draco's eyebrows rose in exaggerated surprise. "I was about to escort you back to Gryffindor," he said in a flat, unassuming tone.

"That's not what I meant," Hermione's eyes darted about. There were several students in the corridor, all of whom had stopped whatever they had been doing and were staring. "You have your arm around me!"

Draco grinned. "Oh, is that where it is? I was wondering where I had left it." He looked at her inquisitively. "Is something wrong?"

"Well," Hermione looked about her again, and her blush deepened when she saw a couple of girls huddling together, giggling in her and Draco's direction, "people are staring at us!"

Draco didn't move his arm. He looked up and washed his gaze around the room. "Huh!" he said, apparently surprised when he saw the others. His face hardened slightly, "People have been staring at me for over a week now," he looked back to her and his face split into a smile, "I'm past caring…so they don't bother me," his smile faded, "unless they bother you?"

Hermione looked at the giggling girls again. Their laughter did bother her. She hated being the centre of attention like this. Added to that was the fact that several of the others were Gryffindors and that some of them had already turned to run off and spread the word. Hermione pictured the news spreading like a sudden fire throughout the school, and that also bothered her. But, she sighed, what was done was done. There was no stopping it now, soon the whole school would be whispering and staring at her. 'Oh well,' she looked into Draco's eyes, 'in for a penny…' She moved closer to him and put her arm around his waist, smiling as she did, "No, not in the least." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him briefly on the lips, 'in for a pound!' she thought. As she pulled back she noticed with a degree of satisfaction that Draco's face had gone slack with shock. 'He's not the only one that's full of surprises!' She smiled at him. "Lead on."

Draco took a moment to recover, then nodded and with a slight tug he led her forward. The giggling and whispering picked up in volume, but Draco appeared not to hear it. Hermione marvelled at how easily Draco continued to smile at her and make idle small talk as though he hadn't a care in the world. She struggled to do the same as they maintained a steady pace through the corridors. They entered the Entrance Hall; dozens of students turned in a singular state of shock. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but find the look of stunned amazement on their faces slightly amusing. They climbed the stairs at the same casual pace, passing by Professor Snape on the third floor landing. It was all Hermione could do to keep her face straight and free of any emotion as she saw him do a double take and then stare blankly at them.

This, finally, was more than Draco's willpower could take. Hermione felt him tense slightly, though there was no trace of it on his face. Hermione gave him a little squeeze and when he looked down at her, she smiled at him. Draco grinned back and she felt him relax. Hermione was so busy gazing at him that she didn't notice at first that Draco didn't seem to be leading her to Gryffindor at all. By the time she did realise, they had left the Grand Staircase and were headed down toward the Charms classrooms. Hermione frowned, what was he up to? It occurred to her that Draco might very well be lost. After all, how would he know where the Gryffindor Common Room was?

"Erm," she said quietly, "where are we going?"

"Did I not say I was escorting you to Gryffindor?"

"Yes, but," she laughed, "this isn't the way. Gryffindor Tower is…"

"I know where your dormitory is, Hermione, I am not a fool."

Hermione shook her head; he was lost but wouldn't admit it. "I never said you were a fool, but this _isn't_ the way to Gryffindor."

Draco continued on, leading Hermione down the corridor. "You mean it isn't your way to Gryffindor, there are other ways."

Hermione stopped, grinning at his apparent bravado. "Come off it, Draco. Admit it, you're lost. You haven't the faintest idea where the Gryffindor dormitory is, do you?"

"Don't I?" Draco smirked. "Let me take a wild guess…it wouldn't be somewhere like…on the seventh floor of Gryffindor Tower behind a picture of a great big, fat, old woman in a nasty pink dress."

Hermione stopped again. "How did you…"

Draco laughed at the stunned expression on Hermione's face. "I have my sources, Miss Granger."

Draco turned to walk on again, gently pulling Hermione along with him. Hermione was stunned at how much he knew about Gryffindor. He shouldn't know so much. The house dormitories were supposed to be private, their locations were always closely guarded secrets, as were the passwords required to gain entry. Gryffindors, especially, prided themselves on the secrecy of their Common Room. How had Draco found out? What else did he know? Did he know the password too? Hermione chewed her lip, she knew that hearing that Draco, of all people, had learned the location of the Common Room would be a serious cause for aggravation amongst her housemates. They would feel threatened by it. They would probably see it as Slytherin having some sort of advantage over them. None of them knew where the Slytherin Common Room was. Well…that wasn't quite true now that she thought about it. Harry and Ron knew, they had actually been in there once, and of course Hermione herself knew roughly where it was, it was marked on the…then she remembered the map on the wall of the Prefects' Common Room.

She turned to Draco. "You sod!" she laughed and slapped him playfully on the chest, making him wince, "Sources? You just read the Prefect's map!"

Draco grinned at her. "I was wondering when you were going to remember that."

'Git!' Hermione shook her head. He had had her going for a moment. Of course it made sense now, as a prefect, he had known the location of their Common Room for over a year now, he was supposed to know. Hermione was still confused however, Draco knew where Gryffindor was, so where was he leading her? She was about to ask him again when he suddenly turned and tugged her toward the wall. Draco lifted a tapestry and revealed a hidden doorway. He opened it to reveal a narrow passage, leading to a very steep set of stone steps.

"What the hell is this place?" she asked him as he ushered her inside.

"A short cut," was his answer.

Draco closed the door behind them. Torches flared to life along the walls as if on command. Hermione's eyes scanned the passage. It was dark and dusty, and home to about a thousand spiders if the amount of cobwebs was anything to go by. It didn't look like a very popular short cut.

"Why are we going this way?" said Hermione, turning to look at him.

Draco shrugged. "Well, this way is quicker," he said simply, pointing down the passage to the stairs, "Those will lead us right up to the seventh floor."

Hermione thought about it, seeing as how they were already on the fourth floor and that they had gone out of their way quite a bit to get here, she doubted if bypassing a couple of staircases would justify his assessment. Still, there were less prying eyes here and, even though he had denied it, she could tell that having everyone staring at him was hard for Draco to bear.

She decided not to mention it. "Oh," she said, "I didn't realise that," she stepped to the side and pointed down the corridor, "After you."

The passage was so narrow that they had to proceed in single file. Draco moved ahead of her and took her by the hand to lead her on. They kicked up a lot of dust as they passed. It tickled her throat and made Hermione cough slightly as they turned to climb the stairs. They were steep but not so much so as to be all that hard to climb.

"How did you find this?" Hermione asked, enjoying a close up view of Draco's rear end as he climbed ahead of her.

"Exploring," he answered her, "you'd be amazed at just how many hidden corridors and passages this place has when you take the time to look for them."

They reached the top of the stairs to find themselves facing a brick wall. Hermione frowned and looked to Draco to see him running his fingers across the brickwork as though searching for something. After a moment, his fingers paused and pressed in. "Here we are," he said as the wall parted. Draco took Hermione's hand and led her along another passage, similar to the lower one, which ended in a dusty wooden door. He heaved the door open and Hermione stepped out after him to find herself on the seventh floor, just beside the portrait of Albrecht the Idiot, who was busily painting the tree beside him bright yellow. "Voila!" Draco said with an air of triumph.

Hermione smiled at him, and then paused to brush the dust off her robes. She looked over at Draco, hearing him snigger. "What?"

"You've got cobwebs in your hair," he said, still grinning as he started to beat the dust from the long black cloak that he seemed to wear perpetually these days.

"Shit!" Hermione hissed and turned her attention to her hair. She tugged clumps of stick grey cobweb from her hair. 'Damn, why must my hair be so damned frizzy?' It wasn't easy to tell the difference between hair and cobweb. She lowered her hands. "Did I get it all?" she asked.

Draco looked up. "No, not even close," he drew his wand and aimed at her, "here, let me…"

"No!" Hermione shrieked, throwing her arms up in front of her face and stepping back. "Don't…please!"

Draco stared, open mouthed at her. He lowered his wand. "I was only going to help you," he said, sounding startled.

Hermione kept her eyes focussed on his wand as she lowered her arms. She gulped and took a deep breath to steady herself. "I know," she breathed, "I know…just don't do it like that."

"Like what?"

"Don't use magic."

"Why?"

Hermione looked into his curious eyes and felt her throat stiffen. "Just…don't, please?" She still couldn't bring herself to tell him why.

Draco frowned at her. "Have it your way then," he said, pocketing his wand. "Sort it out yourself if you're going to be like that." He sounded annoyed at her.

Hermione stepped toward him. "Draco, I'm sorry…I just…it's just, I don't like people pointing wands at me, that's all."

"I would have thought that you'd at least trust me by now," he said sulkily.

Hermione reached out and took his hand. "I do…really…I do trust you, Draco. Just…don't point your wand at me, ok?"

He looked at her, frowning. It was clear to her that he didn't understand, but there wasn't anything else for it. After a few, hard moments, he nodded. "Ok then. Come here," he pulled her head down and started picking at her hair. He was gentle, barely tugging at her hair as he removed the spider webs. Hermione smiled at him as he finished and stepped back. "There," he said, "all gone!" His tone sounded slightly forced.

"Thank you," she said meekly. The look in his eyes tugged at her heart: he was hurt and she knew it. He really thought that she didn't trust him. Hermione couldn't bear it, he was wrong, she did trust him. "Draco," she wanted to tell him the truth but the words wouldn't come.

"Yes?" he asked.

Hermione tried again to start to explain to him about her illness, but her mouth just wouldn't cooperate. She gave up; if she couldn't tell him that she trusted him, she would show him. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as hard as she could. She held the kiss just long enough for his arms to encircle her before she pulled away. Draco gazed at her, his eyes twinkling in the afternoon sunlight. He seemed to have gotten the message, all trace of pain was gone from his face.

"Come on," he whispered, turning and taking her hand to lead her to Gryffindor. They walked slowly, hand in hand back to the staircases. Only a couple of people saw them, but they stared enough to make it seem like there were hundreds of them. Draco held Hermione's hand all the way until they reached the landing below the Portrait Hole. This was as far as he could go. Hermione was sure that the rumours of the two of them had already reached Gryffindor. It was nothing short of pure luck that they hadn't run into any more of them on their way here. Hermione stopped and turned to him. "Thanks," she said, releasing his hand, "well…I guess I'll see you later?"

Draco nodded and lifted her hand to kiss it before he turned and left. Hermione stood watching him retreat down the stairs until he disappeared. She sighed. 'Here we go!'

Hermione walked to the Fat Lady, almost whispered the password and climbed inside. The Common Room was a noisy bustle. Gryffindor was getting ready for the first Quidditch match of the season. The floor was littered with badges and brightly coloured rosettes. One entire wall was taken up by an enormous gold and scarlet banner with the words 'Go Gryffindor Go' emblazoned on it. Seven fierce looking lions were prowling and snarling around them, occasionally pausing to roar out the name of one of the team's players. Dean Thomas, the self professed Gryffindor artist, was putting the finishing touches on the last of the lions, which roared Harry's name every five seconds, and was the first person to become aware of Hermione's presence. He dropped his wand and stared at her.

One by one, the others began to notice her too, with much the same result. In seconds, every conversation had ground to a halt, every eye had turned to stare at her. None of them spoke, the power of speech seeming beyond them. Hermione sighed, she was in no mood for this. Deciding not to even try to face them, she merely rolled her eyes and headed for the stairs. Finding her bedroom blissfully deserted, she hurled herself onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Automatically, she started to take stock of the situation, trying to be rational. First, relief, neither Harry nor Ron had been there. Hermione remembered hearing Katie Bell say something about a last minute team practice before the game against Slytherin. She wondered how long it would be before they got back and found out. The others would certainly tell them in short order. Her mind froze as she tried to imagine their reaction.

She sighed, she was going to do herself no good thinking like this. Maybe she should confront them, tell them face to face. But, given the fact that every conversation she had had with them in the last month had ended in a row, she decided against trying. The row would arrive on its own this time, and she was in no hurry to encourage it. She sighed again and looked for something else to occupy her attention. Her eyes fell on the book on her locker, the book that she was supposed to be helping Ginny to understand. It had been over a week since Ginny had last asked her about it, or since Hermione had even thought about it. She picked it up and twirled it idly in her hands. She didn't feel much like studying, but she supposed she had better hurry on and get it back to Ginny, and reading would distract her and pass the time until dinner. She heard voices from the Common Room below. They were too muffled for her to make out what they were saying, but in her head, she could imagine the conversations.

'_Hermione and Malfoy?__ No, never…you must have got the wrong end of the stick._'

'_I'm telling you I saw them, cosy as you like._'

'_No…I don't believe it, not Hermione._'

'_I know what I saw…_'

Hermione snarled to herself and turned onto her side. 'Ignore them,' she told herself. 'You're doing what makes you happy for a change, if they can't handle it, that's their problem!' The thought sounded harsher than she was really feeling, and startled her a bit, but it calmed her mind. Pushing the sounds from downstairs away, she turned her full attention to the book. She opened it and was about to skip ahead to the page she had last read when she noticed the inscription on the inside cover:

_To my dearest Jeanette,_

_Your heart is pure._

_Father X_

Beneath the signature, three strange glyphs were drawn in a carefully arranged triangular pattern. And below them in the same strong hand,

_And to Robert in your turn,_

_Estna__ volde calerenal._

Hermione smiled, those few words meant something to her. They told Hermione that this book was old. It had passed to Etean from this woman, Jeanette, and to her from her father, at least two generations of history bound in leather and ink. Hermione mouthed the words of the final line. She hadn't the slightest clue as to their meaning, but the hand that had written them was so strong and clear that it moved her just to look at them. This book had a story all of its own. It was little wonder that Etean had charmed it to prevent it being stolen. Of all the things that boy had done, that one she understood. Jeanette? Who was she that had possessed this book before Etean? What fate had befallen her? Did this book know? Could it tell her? Hermione laughed at the absurdity of the questions and dismissed them. Nobody had ever understood her love of books, but they just didn't get it. Books weren't just pages and words, they were something more. All books had a history, a story to tell, their own mystery to uncover, one only need look for it. That search, hunting for knowledge amongst the words had always kept Hermione spellbound, it had a magic all of its own. Smiling, she opened the book at the marked page and continued to read where she had left off.

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Etean sat in his bedroom, alone, his fingers steepled in front of his eyes. He was concentrating on the sound of the clock ticking in the background as he tapped the tips of his index fingers off one another. Tick…tap…tick…tap, the slow rhythm slowed his mind. Thoughts and theories, ideas and fragments shifted about inside his head at a more manageable rate. Something felt wrong, but he couldn't figure it out. On the surface, and even down at the level that he normally operated on, all was well. The time was fast approaching for things to enter their final stage, but the plan was on track, so what was bugging him?

Loose ends, that was the answer, there were too many of them. They existed on all sides and each time he pulled on one, another two unravelled to take its place. It was starting to get annoying. He hated this point in the game. It was now that things started to take shape, people were just settling their pieces, getting ready to make their final moves. The problem was positioning oneself so that you weren't lost in the forest for the trees. Etean took a breath and started to lay it out again in his mind.

Draco, priority number one…Etean sighed, the boy had been through seven kinds of hell since this had started, and it wasn't over yet. Etean marvelled at how well he was holding together in the face of everything. His future contained no certainty other than pain, and he knew it, yet was managing to grow in spite of it. He wasn't near ready yet, but he was getting there.

Voldemort…his plans outside of the Ascension, whatever they were, seemed unchanged. The Death Eater attacks continued apace, still random, still lacking in any sensible pattern. They had been like this for quite a while now. Etean sighed, too many attacks, the pattern carried on for too long. Death Eaters were cold, confident and lethal, but they were only human. Maintaining their current level for much longer was impossible if costly mistakes were to be avoided. Voldemort was not a fool, he knew this all too well. Something was bound to change and soon, but what? Thus far Voldemort had kept his other allies out of it, presumably due to the fact that most of them were less…surgical than the Death Eaters. They were unpredictable and could prove to be hard to control, but they were there, an untapped resource. Etean pushed the theorising aside, the pattern wouldn't hold, needs must out. All of the impetus for the change was there. He had only to be ready for whatever came of it.

The Ministry…was hanging in there…just. Every day the Daily Prophet carried reports about the movements and daily business of the Minister and his staff. Every day there was some other image of Cornelius Fudge shaking hands with some old pensioner, or kissing a small child, always with a broad smile and a wave for the camera, always in public, in the open, unafraid. That was the message he was trying to send: 'The Ministry is coping with the crisis, and we are not scared!' Etean scoffed because it appeared to be working, and that was the funny thing. Listening in on conversations as he walked the halls, invisible in plain sight, Etean had a fair knowledge of the mood of the other students. Most of them were swallowing the pile of crap that Fudge was serving up daily and were remaining confident. It elevated Etean's impression of the Minister of Magic up a notch, if only the merest notch. Nobody seemed to spot the Aurors in the background of every photo, guarding their Minister from the world, no one noticed that Fudge's smile was plastic, forced and fake. For the ministry too, the holding pattern was starting to crumble, it was a matter of when and not if they broke down.

The Circle…continued as normal. All reports from Poliakov were that the negotiations were unfolding by the numbers, each delegation playing their part as though following a script. The goal that Poliakov had been working on for over two years, his grand legacy to the world, was finally within sight, though the timing could prove awkward from Etean's perspective. The rest of the Council and the members were all in place, watching what needed to be watched, doing what needed to be done. They were ready…but readiness without action could lead to complacency, and that could lay waste to everything they had worked for. That couldn't be allowed to happen.

Nott…he was so worked up trying to talk Etean out of his demand for a meeting with the Death Eaters that he was starting to sound pathetic, which meant that he was becoming malleable. Etean was no closer to figuring out what Nott Senior was playing at, but, for the moment, that was immaterial.

Granger…she was a problem, when had she not been? An itch just begging to be scratched. For the millionth time Etean allowed the thought of eliminating her altogether play out in his head, but the result was always the same…bad idea! Etean was loathe to admit it, but Draco needed Granger. If it weren't for her, he would likely have gone under by now. So, she was in the game, necessary, but...Etean shook his head. Sooner or later, Madam Pomfrey or Dumbledore would figure out the true nature of her condition and then things would start to get messy.

Etean…he laughed. He was in the middle of everything, getting pulled in a dozen different directions at once. Was he in over his head? Maybe, but he could hold his breath for a little longer. Not all of the pieces were on the board yet. He would have to wait for that moment, for when the time came to roll the dice and then play it out. The right moves would become clear at that moment, not before, they had in the past, they would this time. Of all things, he was sure of that.

Etean cast his eyes up at the ceiling. "Anything else, Father?" he said quietly. "Any other problems you feel I should deal with?" Silence answered him, in the end he laughed.

Etean remained in place, thinking until the door of the bedroom behind him opened and Draco entered. Even before he looked around, Etean knew what he was feeling…the childlike joy he always felt after spending time with Granger, but this time tinged with a little sorrow, a touch of contemplation.

"What are you doing sitting here all alone?" he asked before Etean had the chance to speak.

"Just…thinking," Etean replied. "What's up with you?" he asked, standing up.

Draco paused. Etean saw the image of Granger float into his head, followed by a couple of dozen others. "Nothing," Draco lied, "Have you seen Pansy in the last hour?"

Etean shook his head. "No, why?"

Draco paused. "I need to talk to her," he shut his eyes for a moment, then sighed, "You remember…the bomb I have to drop?"

"Ah," Etean nodded, "Well, I haven't seen her. You've tried her room?"

"Yes, just now, no sign."

"She'll surface sooner or later," Etean shrugged, "she always does." He tugged off his tie. "You hungry?"

Draco shook his head. "No, not especially."

"Good, because we are skipping dinner."

Draco's eyebrows rose in shock. "Are we?"

"Yes, because we have a lot of work to do." From his thoughts, it was clear that Draco didn't want to skip dinner and miss the chance to stare at Granger for an hour, but he wasn't going to be that lucky. "We are behind schedule…and that needs to be remedied."

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Draco clenched both fists and concentrated with all his might. His entire mind was bent on sensing the coin, touching it, holding it. But it was to no avail. Just as it had the last time, just as it did every time, the coin fell to the floor the moment Etean released it. Draco snarled in aggravation and then hissed in agony as white hot pain exploded in his temple. He staggered back and caught a pillar for support.

"I…I give up," he panted, "I just can't bloody do it."

Etean strode forward. The coin leaped into his waiting hand as he passed over it. "You can do it, you almost had it that time…there was a definite pause before the coin dropped."

Draco scoffed. "Yeah right, what about half a second?"

"More like a third of one I'd say, but it is an improvement."

Etean looked into Draco's eyes inquisitively and then conjured a silver goblet of the vile healing potion for Draco. 'How does he do that?' Draco wondered as he took the goblet and downed its contents in one go.

'Not easily,' Etean answered him mentally, making Draco wince, the potion hadn't done its job yet. Etean returned to the far pillar, his hand extended, palm up to show Draco the coin. "Ready to try again?" he asked.

Draco shook his head and dropped the goblet, knowing that it would vanish before it hit the floor. "No, not yet," he felt exhausted, "Can't I have a rest first?"

Etean cocked his head to the side for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe you should take a breather." He waved his hand and conjured a table and two chairs out of nowhere. Draco happily sat down. He leaned back and closed his eyes as he listened to the throbbing in his skull fade away. After maybe five minutes of silence he felt something of himself again, but didn't want to go straight back to training.

Etean must have been watching his thoughts. "How are you now?"

"Better…a bit." Draco's head was clearer, though his stomach still rumbled. He was really starting to regret skipping dinner.

Etean nodded. "You are definitely getting stronger. That potion was less than half as strong as the ones I gave you before."

Draco winced as a flare of pain stabbed at him. "Still hurts like a bitch though."

"You are, and it will hurt until your nerves have had a chance to adjust completely. It is clear though that the sensitive areas in your brain are becoming more resilient. You should be feeling stronger, more in control of the power."

Draco nodded. "I think I am. It's certainly easier to do things," his eyes darted to Etean's hand, which still held the coin, "Some things anyway," he added hastily.

Etean leaned forward. "Such as?" he sounded interested.

"Well, I managed to track Hermione down earlier," he tapped his temple, "just with this."

Etean paused for a moment, and then nodded. "Good!"

"Yeah," Draco felt pleased with himself, "I just opened my self up, thought about her and…boom, an image of the Hospital Wing popped into my head."

Etean raised an eyebrow. "She was in the hospital?"

"Yes," Draco nodded, "Madam Pomfrey was checking her over…after her injury."

Etean waved his hand, a goblet appeared and he took a sip. "I see…did she ever tell you anything about that?"

Draco shook his head. "No," he said, remembering the annoyance in her voice, "She said she was tired of people pestering her, so I left it alone. She did tell me that she doesn't remember it though, and that's good enough for me."

"Fair enough," Etean said, though he seemed contemplative.

Draco swallowed, Etean contemplating rarely meant anything good. "You're not…concerned about her, are you?"

Etean turned to him suddenly, then laughed. "Concerned? No! Curious…yes. It's been a while since something has baffled me. But meh," he waved the subject off, "forget it, it doesn't really matter for us, does it?"

"No, I guess it doesn't," 'It matters to me though,' Draco thought to himself, not caring if Etean was snooping about in his head. Etean was baffled eh? 'Good, see how he likes it.' Then a thought occurred to Draco, a question he had meant to ask Etean some days ago.

"Etean?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question? There's something I don't understand."

Etean scoffed. "Just one thing eh? Lucky you."

"Well yes…one thing in particular anyway…about the Ascension."

Etean's tone and manner lost all joviality, he sat forward and nodded. "Ok then, what about it?"

"Well, I was just wondering…how you…I mean what the plan is. How do you plan on letting Voldemort…get me?"

"You want specifics?" Etean asked, serious as anything. Draco nodded. "Alright then, the plan, such as it is, is pretty simple. At some point in the future, when we decide that you're ready, we will arrange for you to leave Hogwarts," he paused and then shrugged, "The reason for your departure will be irrelevant so long as it's believable. Once away from here and out from under the protection of Dumbledore, it will be a trivial matter for Voldemort to capture you. We'll set something up of course, something to make it look real."

"And then?"

Etean paused. "And then he takes you to Etheros and attempts to Ascend."

"That's another bit of a grey area. How exactly will he take me to Etheros? That book you gave me mentioned something about 'Gateways', but it wasn't very clear."

Etean paused in contemplation. Draco got the impression he was deciding what to say and what to hide. 'Damn him and his eternal secrets!'

"The Gateways," Etean began, ignoring Draco's thought if he was aware of it, "are ancient portals. They are the only link between this world and Etheros. Only by activating one of them may a person may travel to that world."

"Voldemort knows how to do that…activate the Gateways?"

Etean nodded. "We are fairly confident that he does. Some of the Gateways, five to be precise, were unearthed centuries ago, some of them as long ago as the days of the empire. Wizards have been studying them and Etheros itself for centuries…though, not so much lately. For the most part they were of little interest to the Circle…just interesting artefacts. Then we learned of Voldemort's plans to Ascend, and everything changed. The Circle began an intensive search to learn more, we studied their creation, their operation…everything we could find, but" he sighed, "the only real discovery we made, if you would call it that, was the location of four other, previously unknown Gateways."

"Voldemort doesn't know about those ones?"

Etean shook his head. "No, not so far as we can tell, but he still has five to choose from, so that's not much of an advantage. We have tried to learn more about them, about their vulnerabilities and such. Unfortunately, the damned things seem to be all but indestructible," he paused to shrug, "So, we fell back to the old reliable…we watch. Circle members have been stationed at each Gateway ever since Voldemort's return, but, thus far we have no proof that he has used any of them." Etean shook his head. "But, for our plan to succeed, his origin point is immaterial. We know where he will arrive because there is only one functioning gate left in Etheros."

"At the base of Mt. Cruentus?"

"Got to the part about the mountain have you?" he paused again, "Mt. Cruentus…the mountain of blood…" he said, almost silently. "Yes," Etean shook himself, "the portal is there, buried at the base of the mountain in what remains of a ruined temple. The temple along with everything else for miles around it was destroyed by a volcanic eruption three hundred years ago. Only the inherent power of the Gateway allowed what little remains to survive."

Draco nodded, half sorry he had asked. The explanation only allowed him to visualise about his coming doom more clearly. The morbid thoughts continued. "And he'll take me to Etheros first, when he captures me? Then do all the rest?"

Etean shrugged slightly. "That is up to him I'm afraid. Only the final stages, the Consecration and the Sacrifice, need be performed on the altar atop Mt. Cruentus. The rest could just as easily be done here. Voldemort will have it all planned out though, of that there is no doubt, you will simply have to endure it."

'Easier said,' Draco sat back and flexed the fingers of his right hand. They moved almost fluidly now, though were still as numb as the day they had died. He looked back to Etean. "Where will you be during all this?"

Etean looked up at him. "As close to the heart of it as I can manage. I said I'd be with you to the end, and I will. I'll be there to…to do what I can."

Draco sat forward and chewed on his thumb in contemplation, it was a filthy habit that his father had tried to drive out of him years ago. His father! Draco would have preferred to avoid thinking about him, but now…"Will Lucius be there?"

"I honestly don't know, Draco."

'Most likely he'll have a front row seat!' Draco shut his eyes and struggled to bury his anger. 'The closer the better,' he thought. 'That way I'll take him with me when I go!' That thought seemed to settle his mind. The image of his demise played out before his eyes. He looked on it with a strange form of detachment, watched it happen as though he were a spectator. He watched Voldemort fail, saw his father fall along with him…victory, and death. He saw his own life fade out…no grand speeches, no final words, just the end of Draco. He imagined Etean standing over his broken body. Then onward, he pictured his funeral, everyone, what few had come, dressed in black and gathered around a simple black coffin. The scene was pathetic, like the last page of a badly written book, the author desperately trying to evoke some tiny drop of emotion. He could see the looks of false grief in their eyes and couldn't bear the thought of it.

"Etean, I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"If…when…I die…don't tell anyone."

"What?"

Draco looked him in the eye. "If we do it…if we beat him. Never say what happened to me…not to anyone. Take the credit for the victory yourself or something. Never let anyone know the truth about how I died, or even that I'm dead. Just dig a hole somewhere and bury me…no gravestone, no funeral, no mourners…nothing."

Etean looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded. "If that is what you want, I will see to it, but," he sat up, suddenly chipper and alert again, "lets not dwell on that now. We have work to do tonight…and there's the quidditch match tomorrow and a whole house full of Gryffindors to aggravate." He laughed and shook his head. "Do you know, I think that this school is really starting to get to me. I'm even starting to think like a student for heaven's sake!"

Etean stood up. Draco shook himself and followed suit. Etean banished the table with a gesture and then returned to work, holding the coin in the air.

"Concentrate," he repeated the command, "try to feel its weight as though it's in your hand."

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Hermione woke with a start, just as she always did. Sweat was dripping from her brow, her nightshirt was sticking to her. She sat up, willing the haunting image of her dream to leave her conscious mind. After a moment, the eyes faded. They would be back tonight, she knew that, but the day at least, was still her own. She ran her fingers through her hair as she looked at the clock. It was just after six in the morning, she had been 'asleep' for only two hours, but that was all she was going to get. There was no going back to sleep now, she was free of the dream for the moment and that was how it was going to stay.

She got up as quietly as she could and headed for the shower. Lavender snorted heavily as she passed her bed, but didn't wake. 'Good,' Hermione thought, 'at least this way I won't have to talk to her.' She felt miserable, the weight of her suddenly very complicated life bearing her down. Last night had been amongst the longest of her life; it had started bad and gotten worse with alarming speed. She had managed to stay clear of any of the other Gryffindors for a while, but she could still hear them whispering. Try as she had to ignore it, it had started to wear her down. Then there was dinner! She wouldn't have gone at all if she hadn't thought she'd see Draco there. That was when things went from annoying to bad. He hadn't shown up! She had been looking forward to seeing him again, feeling him take some of the pressure off her, but instead she was alone with the whole school staring at her.

Her fellow Gryffindors seemed to have been trying to tell her something. A three foot gap had surrounded her at the Gryffindor table for the whole of dinner. Hermione had done her best to ignore the situation for as long as she could, forcing down bite after bite of a meal that she really didn't want. She wasn't about to let everyone see her crack. But after half an hour of sly stares and whispers, half an hour of feeling like an outcast, sitting alone at the end of the Gryffindor table, Hermione had given in and left to return to her dormitory, not that it felt like hers anymore.

Learning of the…whatever word would best describe her situation with Draco had, in one evening, changed Gryffindor Tower from being her home to being merely a place that she lived in. Her fellow Gryffindors had divided themselves neatly into two groups, those that stared at her like she had two heads, as though she were some form of traitor, and those that had chosen to simply blank her. She wasn't surprised by their reaction, not really. But Harry had fallen into the latter category, and that did come as a shock. Their paths had finally crossed when she had returned to the Common Room after dinner. He had looked at her when she came in, and then walked straight past her as though she wasn't even there.

Hermione fought to keep herself under control as she turned the shower on. 'You and Harry haven't been on speaking terms for a while,' she told herself, 'so his behaviour shouldn't have surprised you. He's mad, give him time.' She was right, over the last few weeks she had gone out of her way to not talk to him or Ron, so it was only natural for him to do the same. But the more she thought about it, the worse she felt. His reaction had revealed something deeper in him. It just didn't fit. It wasn't how things had ever been between them, not even since they had fallen out. Sure, Ron had made a few attempts to make things better after their row, but not Harry, that wasn't him. He had always been quieter, more reserved. His behaviour toward her had been cold, aloof, but he was still there. Before last night, he would have at least acknowledged her presence, however begrudgingly, but he hadn't. She hadn't been prepared for that. A row, yes, screaming and yelling and anger, yes, she would have settled for an angry glare or two, but not nothing, nothing hurt.

The truth, once she had been able to admit it to herself, was that she had wanted Harry to be mad at her, to yell at her, to rant and rave and start a holy war over her relationship with Draco, or whatever it was. That was the reaction she had expected, no, hoped her friend would have had, but he hadn't. A tear rolled out of her eye. His behaviour toward her left only one conclusion: her friend was gone, forever! She had driven him away. 'No!' Hermione forced herself to keep calm. She struggled to think sensibly. Their row wasn't what had taken him from her, and Draco wouldn't be the thing that kept him away. Harry had done it himself…all by himself. He had gone away all on his own, and last night proved that he didn't want to come back. She shoved her face into the steaming water and let it burn away the tears. Harry was gone, forever taken from her by the pain in his heart. There was no changing it, so she'd have to live with it.

Hermione shut the water off and blinked as she searched for her towel. She dried herself off as quickly as she could, all the while avoiding her own reflection in the bathroom mirrors. She returned to her room, glad to find Lavender and Pavarti still soundly asleep in their beds. She dressed herself in silence, happy to be free of her uniform today. She didn't feel like a Gryffindor right now, so wearing the crest didn't appeal to her. Choosing comfortable clothes made her feel at least human, just. She hugged herself as she crept down the stairs, wanting not to feel like the enemy, if only for a moment, but fate, it seemed, wasn't through with her yet. She entered the Common Room and stopped cold. "Ron!" she whispered in amazement. What was he doing up so early?

Ron turned toward her and she instantly knew the answer. Ron wasn't up early, he was up late. He was still wearing his quidditch robes from yesterday's training session. One look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know about why he was here. The obvious pain on his face stabbed into her heart.

Slowly, as though he was very tired, Ron stood up. He shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before he spoke. "Is it true?" his voice sounded shaky.

"Ron," Hermione started. What had he heard? Which rumour had he chosen to believe? Hermione couldn't answer, she suddenly hadn't the energy for this conversation, "let's not do this now ok?"

Ron stepped toward her. "Is it true?" his voice had risen, betraying the emotions he was struggling to control.

Hermione sighed and looked him in the eye. "Yes," she said simply.

Ron responded as though someone had just punched him in the gut. His legs went out from under him and he simply buckled into the chair he had just vacated. He leaned forward and held his head in his hands. "I knew it," he was talking to himself, "I mean I knew it," he looked up at her, not bothering to hide the tears, "They told me…everyone told me. But I needed to hear you say it, I needed…" he tailed off and buried his head in his hands again. Hermione moved toward him on instinct and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Ron…"

"Don't." Ron shook her off and stood up suddenly. Hermione had to leap back from him to avoid being knocked over. "Just…don't touch me."

Ron turned his back on her and walked away. He stood facing the wall in silence for almost a full minute. To Hermione, it felt more like an hour. She stood there, watching him, and then finally couldn't take it anymore. She turned to leave when she heard him start to laugh quietly. Hermione froze in place, Ron was laughing at her?

"Ron?" she asked in disbelief as she turned back to him.

Ron still had his back to her, but he was definitely laughing. There was very little sound but his shoulders were shaking up and down. "I am such an idiot," he said, silent laughter still shaking his voice, "I mean, how did I miss it? It was right in front of me the whole time," he turned round slowly. "You've been on his side for months now, haven't you?"

Hermione took a moment to fathom what he had just said. "His side? What…"

"Haven't you?" Ron bellowed. Hermione saw the pain washed from his eyes by pure rage.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked, starting to feel anger herself.

Ron sneered. "Come off it, Hermione, I'm not as dumb as you think I am."

"I don't think…"

Ron ignored her. "Or maybe I am…I mean it was so fucking obvious. You've been acting weird for weeks…disappearing on your own for hours at a time, picking fights with your friends for no reason. What is it? Did you enjoy it? Do you and…that prat Malfoy giggle and roll around the floor laughing at how well you'd hidden your sordid little secret from everyone?"

"Sordid?" Hermione's anger stirred; the growling sound in her ears once again. It rose quickly and threatened to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. "I don't know what planet you think you are living on, Ron, but it isn't this one. Picking fights? What fights have I been picking?"

Ron reeled back and waved his fists in the air. "What fights?" he raved, "What fights she says," he turned to glare at her, anger and pain filing his eyes, "Hermione, you haven't so much as said two words to me or Harry in weeks and…"

"Haven't I?" Hermione roared over him, "And whose fault was that, Ron? Who goaded who into doing something that we both know was stupid, cruel and just plain wrong? And when one of us came to their senses, who was it that hexed who?" Ron glared at her, only succeeding in making her angrier. "Answer me Ron, which of us turned on the other? Which of us picked the fight with someone they were supposed to care about?"

The anger seemed to fade out of Ron. He stepped toward her. "I do care about you."

Hermione scoffed and spread her arms wide. "You have a funny way of showing it."

Ron lowered his head and shut his eyes. Hermione heard him sigh heavily as she dropped into the nearest armchair. The anger faded along with the growl, leaving her alone. Ron pressed his fingers into his eyes and wiped at tears that had appeared there. "I never could show you," he whispered so quietly that Hermione could barely here him. "I wanted to…so many times…for so long, but I just couldn't. I always hoped you would figure it out on your own, I mean, you are supposed to be the smart one, right?" He shook his head, "And now, I've lost you." He paused to wipe at his eyes again.

"Ron…" she whispered.

"I always figured I would you know?" he laughed joylessly, "That's the really funny thing. I always pictured that I would find some way to screw up and break your heart. You'd cry, you'd hate me forever, and then you'd move on…find someone else, and then I'd hate him…and I'd hate myself more for hurting you." He laughed again, and then his face hardened. "Pathetic isn't it? But that's the future I pictured for us," anger seemed to fill him again, "But I never…for one second, imagined that you would beat me to it…and with Malfoy? Fuck!" the last word was a whisper.

Hermione stood up and walked toward him. "I didn't do this to hurt you, Ron."

"Well, you did," he said so suddenly that she jumped, "You've hurt me, more than you will ever know." He stared at her, his eyes lost all of their lustre. It appeared as though they were carved of stone. "I don't know you anymore."

Ron stormed past her and disappeared up the stairs. Hermione felt sick. She had known for a while that Ron had a crush on her; he wasn't ever really any good at hiding it. She had never felt the same way, he was her friend and that was it. She had always been careful not to hurt him, hoping that it was nothing more than a crush that he would grow out of in time. And now she had broken his heart? What kind of person did that make her? He was supposed to be her friend, despite all the arguments, despite them not talking to one another, he was still her friend, wasn't he? Hermione chewed her lip and fought to stop the tears from breaking through. She failed when the realisation hit her; no, Ron wasn't her friend either, not anymore. Both of her best friends were gone! Both of them had decided to turn their backs on her!

She stood up again and started to pace. Was it worth it? Was Draco worth it? Yes, he made her happy. When she was with him, she felt good in spite of everything else. But right now she wasn't happy, how could she be? She had managed to drive away every single person in her life that she had counted as a friend. Now she had no one left…apart from Draco. He was still there, but was he enough? Was what little happiness she could have with him worth tearing all of her friendships apart?

The question was still bouncing around inside her head when she heard movement from above her. She didn't know who it was and she didn't care, she didn't want to talk to anyone. She needed to get out, get some air to clear her head so she could think. She clambered out of the Portrait Hole and all but ran down the stairs, headed nowhere in particular. She wandered the corridors for hours, not really paying attention to where she was going. Time seemed to rush through her, sucking her further and further in despair. Then somehow, just after nine in the morning, she found herself back at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione stared at the hunk of grapefruit in front of her, not able to work up the strength to eat a single bite. The few other Gryffindors at the table were giving her a wide berth again, not that she felt able to speak to any of them anyway. She didn't have the will to speak to anyone. She was only still sitting here because she honestly couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Her eyes scanned the Slytherin table. Draco still wasn't there. Millicent Bullstrode was though, she and Annabelle Turner were talking to one another, but both were staring at her. Hermione shut her eyes and lowered her head. This was too much.

"Good morning." Hermione looked up as Ginny clambered over the seat opposite her and calmly started to prepare her breakfast.

Hermione balked, was it possible? Could Ginny not know?

After an expectant pause, "Huh," Ginny sniffed, "well good morning to you too, Gin, how are you this morning? What, me? I'm fine, a little nervous about my first game as Chaser, but we're ready. You?"

Hermione blinked; she shook her head. "What?"

Ginny set her elbows on the table and looked at her. "It's called small talk, Hermione. You know, polite little chit chat?"

"What?" Hermione shook her head again. "Oh right, sorry…good morning," she caught on at last.

Ginny frowned. "I could have sworn we already did that part…or I did anyway." She scooped up a mouthful of cereal. "Maybe," she said between chews, "I should just talk for both of us, if you can't keep up," she grinned.

Hermione smiled too, for a moment, she couldn't help it. Ginny's humour was always so infectious. The smile faded. It was clear that Ginny didn't know about her and Draco. It was almost unbelievable, but it was the only explanation. Hermione had to tell her, she owed her that much. She leaned forward. "Gin, I have to tell you…"

"I know all about you and Malfoy, Hermione," she said simply, no hint of feeling in her voice. "What do you think I am, blind, deaf and dumb?"

Hermione felt shock freeze her insides. "You know? But then…"

"Why am I talking to you when none of the others are?" Ginny shrugged, "Simple, you're my friend."

Her friend? Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. "Then," she was almost afraid to say, "you aren't mad at me like everyone else?"

Ginny frowned and dropped her spoon. "Mad? No," she said, reaching out to touch Hermione's hand, "Not mad. Am I surprised...certainly…confused…definitely, but not mad." She gave Hermione's hand a little squeeze.

Hermione looked at Ginny's smiling eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny was still her friend, she hadn't lost them all. She felt a tear fall and moved her hand quickly to catch it. "Shit," she whispered, "look at me, blubbing like an idiot. What's gotten into me?"

Ginny's smile faded. "That was what I was just about to ask, if you feel like explaining it to me that is."

"What exactly do you want me to explain?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "All of it, dummy. For a start…why Malfoy?"

'Not that question, please!' Hermione shut her eyes. "I don't know."

"Fair enough," Ginny said through another mouthful of cereal.

Hermione looked up, surprised. "What?"

"We don't always understand why we like someone, Hermione. Sometimes," she shrugged, "it just happens. I'm just glad that you're as confused as the rest of us."

"You can say that again."

"Ok then," Ginny continued, "next question: When?"

"When?"

"When did it start?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know…about a week ago I guess, but not really…it sort of started before that…" she lost track of her words and stopped.

Ginny took her hand again. "It's alright, I was just curious. So I take it that Malfoy was the mystery man we talked about last week?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes he was…do you see now why I didn't want to tell you?"

"I do," Ginny smiled, "but, do you remember what I said?" Another nod. "And does he?"

Hermione looked down at the table. "When I'm with him…yes he does…but," she was fighting off tears again as she thought about Harry, Ron and all the others, "is that enough? Is it worth it? I mean, everyone hates me because of this."

Ginny's eyes darted around the Gryffindor table. Hermione couldn't bring herself to look with her. "They don't hate you, Hermione. They're just shocked is all. They'll come around soon."

"Harry won't, or…or Ron."

Ginny sighed. "Ah yes, those two," she said in a rather sagely voice as she rested on her elbows, "I saw Ron a while ago, and I won't lie to you Hermione…he's a mess." Hermione's eyes slid closed. "He's carried a torch for you for a long time."

"I knew," Hermione said quietly.

"I know you did, so did I, and so did Harry, and so did Mom, and so did Dad…and…in fact," she smiled faintly, "I think Ron was the last one to figure it out," she laughed, then settled, "He's hurt, Hermione, but that isn't your fault. It isn't because it's Malfoy either, Ron would be hurt no matter who you were dating, because they weren't him." Ginny leaned forward and took her hand again, "And it wouldn't ever be him…would it?"

"No," Hermione said honestly, "it wouldn't. He's my friend…at least he was."

"He is still your friend," Ginny assured her, "And, sooner or later, he'll remember that. Harry will too."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. He can't even stand to look at me for heaven's sake. I mean, he walked right past me last night as though I was a total stranger."

Ginny nodded. "He does that to everyone, Hermione."

"He does? To you too?"

"Yes...sometimes. Half the time he just sits on his own, not talking to anyone, and even when he is...he isn't." Ginny paused, a contemplative look came to her face. "Harry's…scared. He's been kicked in the teeth so often lately that he's starting to think that he's better off alone. His solution seems to be to push people away, to keep everyone at arms length, but it isn't just you, Hermione." She paused and shook her head. "He'll come around, too, it might take a little longer in his case, but he will, trust me."

Hermione smiled. "Since when did you become so smart?"

"I've always been smart, Hermione," Ginny answered in a huffy voice, "It's just you have never noticed before."

"Sorry," Hermione smiled, "but I'll know the next time you start pestering me to help you with your homework."

Ginny scowled and swallowed the last of her cereal. "Don't say that, I'd fail in no time without you. I'm just good at reading people." She smiled. "People are easy…books I have trouble with. Are you done?" She nodded at Hermione's still uneaten grapefruit. Hermione nodded and pushed it away. Ginny stood up. "Then do you fancy heading down to the pitch with me? I want to get in some last minute practice before the game. I wasn't joking when I said I was nervous."

Hermione scanned the Slytherin table again, still no sign of Draco. She sighed. "Ok then."

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Etean climbed the last of the stairs and stood in the shadow of the lowest platform, below the stands. He wasn't hiding, it was mere habit that guided his steps. His eyes scanned the air, noting every cloud, every ripple of wind that fluttered the banners.

"It's a nice day for it," he said aloud.

Nott stepped out from behind the edge of the stand. "How long did you know I was behind you?"

"For as long as you _were_ behind me," Etean smiled, keeping his back to Nott, "You really should stop trying to get the better of me, Theo, it's getting boring."

"I wasn't trying to get the better of you, I was just wondering where you were going, the match isn't for an hour."

"True, it isn't, but we have been over this before, you and I. Where I go and why is not your concern."

Nott's response was interrupted as both boys turned their attention to the team tunnel. The doors were swinging open. Etean narrowed his eyes and brought the entryway into sharper focus as he spotted a small shape moving in the shadows. It moved forward and Etean smiled as he saw the morning sunlight bounce off Ginny's scarlet hair. Her orange robes set it off perfectly as she took to the air and began to soar and swoop all over the pitch.

"What is she doing?" Nott asked, Etean noted him stepping into the shadows, out of sight.

He sighed at the absurdity of the question. "Most people call it flying, Theo."

"Ha ha!" Nott answered sarcastically. Movement caught the corner of Etean's eyes. He turned his head to see Nott aiming his wand at the soaring Ginny, who still seemed to be unaware of their presence. "A Gryffindor Chaser, all on her own. Wouldn't it be a shame if she 'fell' off her broom with no one here to catch her?" He smiled viciously. "I wonder if I could hit her from here?" he said, his aim shifting to follow her movements.

Etean turned away from him. "And I wonder if you would bounce were I to toss you from the stands, Theo." Etean kept his tone calm and level, but Nott got the message. He swallowed and lowered his wand.

"Only a thought, I wasn't serious," he said, smiling awkwardly.

"Of course you weren't," Etean slapped his chest with the back of his hand, just hard enough to reinforce his earlier message, "Come on, let's leave her to it."

"You don't want to watch her fly? It might be useful to us to see her in action."

"Possible, but unlikely." Etean moved off, but stopped when he realised that Nott wasn't following. He turned to see him staring at the stand opposite. Etean followed his gaze, then immediately felt a surge of anger. 'Granger!' He stepped back to Nott and turned him round. "Tell me that you are not still fixating on that girl," he snapped.

Nott shrugged. "Haven't you heard? The whole school is interested in her today."

"Is that right?" Etean shook his head. "That's their problem, isn't it? Besides, something tells me that none of them are as 'interested' as you are, are they?"

"Maybe," Nott said, in a defiant tone, "but what's it to you?"

Etean took a breath. "Nothing," he said, spreading his arms, "Except of course that we have a deal, remember? You have a job to do for me, or did you forget?"

Nott paled. "No, but about that…"

"No 'about that' nothing, Theo. It's a simple job, something I want done, and you are going to do it if you want to be of any use to me, get it?"

"I get it. But, Etean," Nott was starting to sound shaky, "I told you, it isn't that simple."

"For Merlin's sake, Theo, just…contact…them! Start with your father," Etean pointed a finger at Nott's heart, "And don't you even try to tell me that you haven't got a way to get in touch with him."

Nott sighed. "That's just it I haven't. I have tried, but he won't answer me, I don't know why."

Etean looked him in the eye. Nott was on the edge, time to push! "Then try again…and again…and again, until he does answer you, Theo. This isn't a game, nor is it a test that you can pass or fail. You do this, or…" he sent a flash through his eyes, "or you will be of _no_ use to me. Am I being clear, Theo?"

Nott swallowed, then nodded. "Crystal."

Etean smiled. "Good, because you should understand that until you finish this job, until you have done what I have told you to do, I own you. You are my property whether you like it or not. So," he jabbed a finger in the general direction of Granger in the stands, "hands off that one, or anyone else who doesn't give you a gilded invitation. I won't have your hormones, or your lack of sense getting in my way. Understand?" Nott nodded, "Right then," he reached up and slapped Nott gently on the jaw, "now let's go find the rest of this team of ours and then see if we can't beat the snot out of Gryffindor."

They left the stands and returned to Slytherin. Etean soon discovered that rounding the team up was a trivial matter, but getting them into the same room was another thing entirely. Annabelle still maintained the pretence of being annoyed with Nott, though Etean had noticed some odd noises from his room the previous evening so it was purely for show for pride's sake. Her fight with Blaise was no act however, nor was his with Nott. That left Etean, Stephen, Crabbe and Goyle as the only people who were on speaking terms with everyone else on the team. Not that they were speaking now, Crabbe and Goyle lacking the capacity, Stephen apparently lacking the will. Looking at them sitting around the wall of the changing rooms, Etean shook his head. Crabbe and Goyle were alone in the corner, hitting each other over the head with their Beater Mallets, while everyone else seemed to be staring into space. He sighed in annoyance. Blaise, the team captain, should have been spending his time mending bridges and shaping them into a team fit for a match, but he seemed to want to do nothing more than study his playbook.

'Well if he won't do it…' "Right, listen up," Etean shouted, making them all jump, "Everyone stop what they're doing and pay attention." He jabbed a finger at Stephen. "You," he pointed to the empty space between Nott and Annabelle, "sit there." Stephen opened his mouth, but never voiced his objection. Etean looked at him until he stood up, then turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Sit!" he roared as though he was ordering a couple of wild dogs. The two huge lumps blinked, but obeyed.

At this point, Blaise stood up. "What the hell are you doing, Etean?" he said angrily.

"Your job," Etean barked at him, "because you don't seem to be doing it."

"I am doing it," Blaise gestured with his notes, "what does it look like I'm doing?"

Etean snatched the notes from him. "It looks like you are wasting your time," he waved the notes in Blaise's face, "It's too late for these, too late for studying plays and manoeuvres," he tossed the notes onto the floor, "What we know, we know and what we don't know, we are not going to learn in the next," he checked his watch, "twenty minutes. So forget the plans and start acting like a captain, get your team ready to play this game." Etean pointed at Nott, Stephen and Annabelle. "There are your Chasers, isn't there anything you should say to them before they go up against the opposition?"

Blaise bristled as he stared from Etean to the Chasers, then to Crabbe and Goyle, and then back to Etean. "They know all they need to know."

"Do they?" Etean asked him coldly.

Blaise ruffed up again, he turned to Nott. "Don't you?"

Nott sat up and nodded; Annabelle and Stephen followed suit. Blaise paused, unhappy with the response. He seemed to get the picture. "You had better," he addressed them all as one, "because Gryffindor have a stronger front line this year than I can remember them having any other year. Katie Bell has been at this for six years now, there isn't much she hasn't seen before. The other two are no slouches either," Etean turned his back and returned to his seat, "Roger Dillon is new, but he has some skill, and the Little Wea…" he glanced to Etean as he raised an eyebrow, "And…Ginny Weasley, is a former Seeker, which means she has the speed and the reflexes to cause us problems."

Blaise turned his attention to Crabbe and Goyle. "You two, the Gryffindor Beaters may not look like much, but they are pretty quick. You'll just have to let your muscle do the job for you. And keep your eye on Potter, keep him busy, a concussion wouldn't hurt either if you can manage it." The two great morons broke down into a fit of laughter at this. Blaise rounded on Etean. "Is that more like it?"

"It's more like something anyway, we'll see if it does the job."

Blaise shook his head. "Do I need to remind you to keep your eye on Potter as well?"

Etean shook his head. "I think I can remember that."

"Fine," Blaise clapped his hands, "Suit up, all of you!"

Fifteen minutes later, the team was standing in the centre of the pitch. Etean's eyes scanned the crowded stands. The Gryffindor and Slytherin sections were awash with colour, countless waving banners and fluttering flags everywhere. There were a decent few Gryffindor flags dotted amongst the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students too, he noticed. The Staff Stand was pretty crowded. Dumbledore was headed along the row, an owl perched on his arm. The life of the Headmaster didn't stop for Quidditch, Etean mused to himself. As he watched, the other staff started to stand to make room for the Headmaster to pass. Etean returned his attention to the game. He looked over at Nott beside him, noting his looking slightly uncomfortable. The other members of the team seemed tense as well, all of their bravado and big talk appearing to be based on pride rather than true confidence. Etean shook his head slightly and turned his attention to the opposing team. The first face he saw was Potter's. He was standing just behind and to the right of Katie Bell, staring straight ahead with no emotion on his face whatsoever. His eyes were impressive, no doubt about it, two violent green pits, completely devoid of feeling. Etean watched him as he moved his gaze slowly from one Slytherin to the next. One by one, Potter stared each of them down. Etean's gaze moved away from Potter to Weasley beside him. The contrast couldn't be more striking. Weasley looked like hell. Dark circles were cut into his face beneath his eyes, his skin was pale and pasty and he looked to be just about ready to keel over on the spot.

Madam Hooch swooped down on her broom and landed on the centre line. "All players shake hands!" she commanded.

Etean stepped forward to the line, spotting that, whether by accident or design, he was now standing opposite Ginny.

A tiny smile twisted her lip as she held out her hand. "Good luck, Mr Etean," she said as they shook hands, "you are going to need it." Etean noticed that she was squeezing rather hard.

He kept his face slack. "The same to you, Miss Weasley."

Ginny's smile broke into a full fledged grin. Her eyes narrowed mischievously. "You feel like making this interesting?"

Etean returned her grin. "What do you have in mind?"

"Five galleons to the winner?"

Now Etean smiled. "Five?" he shook his head, "If you want it to be interesting, make it ten," he said.

There was a flicker of a reaction in her eyes. "Alright then," she shook Etean's hand once more then released it. They both stepped back and resumed their positions. Madam Hooch ordered them all to mount their brooms and take off. As he soared into the sky, Blaise pulled level with Etean. "Keep your attention on the game, Etean, not on her."

Etean turned to look him in the eye. "You do your job, and leave me to do mine!"

"Ready!" Madam Hooch called from below. There was a jostle of excitement from the crowd as the Snitch and Bludgers were released. Etean tracked the Snitch for a second until it vanished amid the stands. Madam Hooch held the Quaffle aloft for a moment, then tossed it high and blasted her whistle. The game was on.

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Draco entered the Great Hall. It was all but deserted. Most people had headed to the stands already, he assumed. Hermione was nowhere in sight. Draco felt a pang, he had been hoping to see her before the match. He sighed and sat down. At least he would be able to eat in peace. He was famished, but after a night's training with Etean, he hadn't the energy to face a complicated breakfast, so he settled for the old reliable, oatmeal. As he chewed, his mind started down toward morbid thoughts again, but he forced himself to stop and concentrate on happier things.

The imminent quidditch match should be fun. Draco wished he were playing instead of just watching, but it would be interesting to see if Etean could get the better of Potter and grab the Snitch. Draco checked his watch. 'Yikes!' he thought, it was nearly time for the throw in. Draco wolfed down another mouthful of oatmeal and bolted for the door.

Outside, he paused to take a deep breath of clean air and then set off toward the quidditch stadium at a half jog. Even from this far away he could hear the roar of the crowd, and they seemed excited. Draco strained to listen, based on the noise the match hadn't started, but it would at any moment. Draco quickened his pace. He rounded the corner of the castle, reaching the sloping path that led down to the stadium and stopped. Hermione was walking slowly up the slope toward him with her arms bundled about her and her head down. Draco frowned and headed down to her. They were a mere twenty feet apart when she looked up and noticed him. Hermione stopped in place. Draco smiled and walked over to her.

"Where are you off to?" he asked her.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Nowhere."

She sounded upset, and now that he could see her eyes, he realised that she looked it too. "What is it? Don't you want to look at the match?"

Hermione scoffed. "What, and stand in the middle of a bunch of people that can't bear the sight of me? I don't think so."

Draco sighed. "That bad is it?" he asked, stepping forward to hug her.

Hermione stepped back. "It's worse!" she yelled at him, "The whole school thinks I've gone nuts or something. You'd know that if…" she stopped short.

"If what?" Draco pushed.

"If," Hermione hesitated, "if you hadn't been hiding all night."

Draco drew back. "I wasn't hiding," he said, though it occurred to him that he had been. "I was just…" 'training for a suicide mission to kill the most feared wizard in history…' was what he wanted to say, but he dismissed the thought, "…I wasn't hungry so I skipped dinner…after that I just kind of stayed in my room."

Hermione seemed to read his mind. "So you left me to face it on my own?" she set her hands on her hips, "Thank you very much, Draco."

She made to move past him, but he put out a hand and stopped her. "Wait, please…" he stepped forward to cup her cheek with his palm, "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to drop you in it, I just didn't think."

Hermione hesitated, then leaned her face against his palm. "No you didn't because you're an idiot!"

The insult was delivered quietly, taking all of the sting out of her words. "Well," he smiled, "it's a good thing that I'm so damned handsome then, isn't it?"

Hermione smiled at the joke for a second, then frowned at him and pulled his hand away. "Don't...I want to be mad at you now," she started to sound genuinely angry. She stared into his eyes for a moment, "Do you know how hard last night was for me, Draco? I had to look into my best friend's eyes and see hatred. Have you the slightest idea of what that feels like?"

"No," he answered, lowering his head.

Hermione sniffed hard. "Well let me tell you that it isn't a pleasant experience, but that wasn't the half of it. The whole of Gryffindor hates me too. I have suddenly become a stranger in my own home, and I don't know if I can take that."

Draco felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. He stepped right up to her. "What are you saying, Hermione?"

He saw her swallow hard. "I don't know…I mean, what are we doing here besides hurting the people around us?" she said, avoiding his eyes, "I don't know…if it's worth it."

Draco's throat went dry. Fear settled into his heart and started to squeeze. The pain of it threatened to stop it beating altogether at any instant. He took hold of her head again, with both hands this time and turned it so she was looking at him. "Don't say that, Hermione, please," he had to force his throat to open so he could speak, "don't say that."

She looked up at him, he stared back, willing himself to get lost in her eyes again. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Draco…"

He didn't want her to speak for fear of what she was about to say, so before she said another word, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. For a few agonising seconds, Hermione resisted. Draco felt the pressure on his heart increase with every beat until, finally she relented. Draco let his grip on her head slacken as Hermione leaned into him to return the kiss. It was a gentle kiss, tentative and unsure and Draco could feel it. He broke off, but didn't move his head back more than an inch.

"I don't care what anyone else says or does or thinks…fuck them."

Hermione drew back slightly. "I don't know. My life is so messed up right now...My days are a constant mixture of fear and confusion, half the time I don't know whether I'm coming or going." Her eyes fluttered closed as she continued. "I can't sleep…Every time I close my eyes I face nightmares that I can't escape. And now everyone hates me on top of everything else? I don't know if I can take it…I can't bear it…I can't do this alone, Draco."

"You're not alone," he said quickly. "You have me, Hermione. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you last night, but it won't happen again. I promise you, you name the god and I'll swear it. Whatever you need, I'll give you, whatever I have to do, I'll do. Just stay with me, Hermione, please," he struggled for air, "You are the only thing in what's left of my life that still makes me feel alive inside."

She looked at him again. "I don't know…" she tailed off.

Draco wiped at a tear from her cheek before it could fall. The lump in his chest got heavier. Looking into her eyes, he could see that she really wasn't sure, but he needed her to be. In that moment, he knew that if she went away from him now, he would break in two. He would fall apart and wouldn't be able to resist in the slightest. The thought of never again being near her the way he was now simply refused to find a seat in his mind, it wouldn't happen, it couldn't happen.

"Just…answer one question," he strained to pronounce every word, "Are you telling me that this," he leaned forward and kissed her gently, "this, isn't what you want?"

Now Draco's heart did stop, so did his breath, so did his very soul. Nothing, no thought or concept existed in the world except for her eyes, and the answer that was coming.

It seemed to take forever, but finally her eyes closed. "No," she whispered. The word was barely audible over the wind but it hit Draco like a bolt of lightning. The pain in his chest vanished and he could breathe again. His head rolled forward and his forehead pressed into hers. Before he realised what he was doing, he was laughing out of sheer relief. It took him several seconds to regain his composure enough to speak.

"Thank you," he whispered, getting a stifled giggle in response. He drew back, just far enough to look into her eyes. "That's better," he said, pulling her into a hug. "I prefer smiling Hermione to crying Hermione." He released her to see the smile was gone again. He shook his head. "Well, it was a start. Now," he straightened up and offered her his arm; she wanted him to be there for her, and that was precisely what he was going to do, starting right now, "Let's show those idiots that they won't get to us. I am going to watch the match…and I would like you to come with me. I want you to walk into that stadium and stand beside me and damn anyone else that decides to care. What do you say?"

Hermione looked hesitant, but took his arm in the end. He led her down toward the stadium, Hermione dragging her feet slightly. They had reached the entrance to the stands when she stopped altogether. "Hold on," she said in a firmer voice than she had earlier, "I am not standing with the Slytherins," she shook her head, "They'll skin me alive."

"You don't need to worry about them," he said to her, releasing her arm and putting his arm around her, "They won't lay a finger on you while I'm with you."

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah?" she said sarcastically, "And what about when you're not with me?"

"And when will that be? I said I won't leave you, and I meant it."

Hermione chewed on her lip in her adorable way for a moment, then shook her head. "Whatever, but I am not standing with them," she said defiantly.

"Fine," Draco gave in, "so where then?" he asked, then hastily added, "And don't even suggest the Gryffindor stand. Somehow I don't think I'd fit in there very well."

"No more than I will, right now," Hermione grumbled, chewing on her lip again. "Maybe we should just give it a miss?" she suggested.

"No!" Draco said defiantly, "We can't let the rest of the world run our lives for us. I have been looking forward to this match and I'll be damned if I'm going to let those morons make me miss it."

"Well, where will we go then?"

Draco thought it over, Gryffindor was definitely out, so was Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff didn't sound very appealing either, that left just one other place. "We could watch from the Staff Stand, that's never full and I don't think they'd mind."

Even as he was suggesting it, the idea didn't appeal to him, but he did want to see the match and there was nowhere else. He looked down at Hermione as she mulled it over, after a minute she shrugged. "Ok then, if it matters that much to you, we can stand with the staff."

There was an almighty roar from above them: the match had started. The sound spurred Draco into action. "Ok," he caught Hermione's hand and tugged her behind him as they made their way around the stadium. The Staff Stand stood astride the centre line of the pitch. It was a five hundred yard journey from where they had started so by the time they arrived they both were out of breath, Hermione, a little more so.

"Hey," she panted, tugging her hand free of his, "You…nearly…pulled my arm…out of the socket."

"Sorry," he said, taking her hand again and kissing it gently, he wanted to turn and sprint up the stairs, but forced himself to remember his manners, "After you," he said, gesturing for her to take the lead. Hermione shook her head and marched up ahead of him. The roar of the crowd rose to a crescendo, one team or another had scored. Draco strained to hear the announcer, but couldn't make out his words. Lee Jordan had left the school at the end of last year, and his replacement didn't seem to have his aural presence. Draco wondered who it was.

They reached the top of the stairs. Hermione turned to look up at the stand behind them and her mouth dropped open. Draco stepped up beside her, looked up and frowned. The stand was deserted. Draco hadn't expected it to be full, some of the staff seemed pretty indifferent where Quidditch was concerned, but still, some of them should have shown up. Hell, even Snape and McGonagall were missing, their respective houses, part of the largest rivalry in the school, were going head to head and they weren't here? This was too weird.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked Hermione, the game behind him forgotten temporarily.

"I have no idea," Hermione answered, "But I know one way to find out." She left his side and clambered up the seats toward the announcer's booth. Standing on his toes, Draco could just about see the top of someone's head inside it. Realising what Hermione was doing, he hurried to catch up to her.

"GREAT SAVE BY RON WEASLEY…THE GRYFFINDOR KEEPER IS REALLY SHINING TODAY…" he heard the announcer's voice now, definitely more high pitched than Lee's had been, harder to hear over the roar of the crowd.

Draco caught up with Hermione just as she arrived at the booth and tapped the occupant on the shoulder. "Colin!" she called his name. Now Draco recognised him, Colin Creevey. 'They gave the job to this kid?' He shook his head as Hermione finally managed to get his attention.

"HERMIONE!" he said into the microphone. Hermione instantly blushed red and ducked low. 'Idiot!' Draco reached into the booth and snatched the microphone from his hand, glaring at him.

Colin drew back from him. "S…sorry," he stammered.

"It's…alright," Hermione soothed him, still bright pink.

"Wh…what do you want?" he asked, his eyes never moving from Draco.

Hermione reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, making Colin jump slightly. "We just wanted to ask you if you knew where all the teachers are?"

Colin shrugged. "I don't know," he said, his eyes darting around the empty stand, "They were here a while ago…Dumbledore…Snape…McGonagall…most of the others. Then, just before the match started, Dumbledore got an owl and left and they all followed him." Colin seemed to grow nervous. "You…you don't think that something's wrong do you?"

Hermione turned to look at Draco. It was clear from her eyes that they were both thinking exactly that. Dumbledore gets a message and then suddenly every staff member bolts from the match? No, that could not be good in any sense of the word. Neither of them said a word to answer Colin's question, but they were spared his repeating it when the crowd gave an almighty roar.

"He can't do that!" Colin roared at the top of his lungs. Draco felt the microphone ripped from his grasp as he turned round to see what all the commotion was about. "HE CAN'T DO THAT!" Colin repeated over the microphone. Draco heard a general confused mutter fill the stadium. His eyes scanned the air, seeking the source of the commotion. He saw it soon enough. Etean was rocketing through the centre of a knot of players, the Quaffle tucked neatly beneath his arm. The other players, specifically the Gryffindors, seemed truly baffled by his behaviour. Draco knew well enough why, a seeker handling the quaffle was almost unheard of. Etean pulled level and hurled the quaffle as hard as he could past the stunned Katie Bell to Theo. He flicked it to a waiting Annabelle, who slipped it past a clearly bewildered Weasley into the left hoop…Goal for Slytherin.

"Hey!" Draco shouted, punching the air.

"What the hell are you cheering for?" Colin shouted at him, remembering to set the microphone down this time. "That wasn't a goal, seekers can't handle the quaffle like that.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Draco said with a grin, turning back to Colin.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked with a curious frown. "I'm no expert or anything, but I think Colin is right."

"Oh you do, do you?" Draco folded his arms across his chest.

Hermione mocked his stance. "Yes, I do. Am I wrong?"

Draco stared at her. "Well, for your information, you are," he raised a hand at Colin to cut off his argument, "True, it isn't the seeker's normal role and, true, it is unusual for them to handle the quaffle, but, and I emphasise the 'but,' there is nothing in the rules to state that the seeker _can't_ handle the quaffle."

"No," Colin jumped in, "I read the rulebook, and it says in there that only the _chasers_ can score with the quaffle."

It did say that, Draco clearly remembered hearing Blaise lecture the team about it on more than one occasion. The rules were clear and goals could only be scored by a chaser. That, of course, was not the same thing as saying that the chasers couldn't handle the quaffle, it had just always been assumed.

Blaise didn't assume! Draco grinned. "I know, but Etean didn't score, did he?"

With a triumphant smile, he turned back to the game. There was a massive kafuffle out toward the centre of the pitch. The Slytherins were hanging back, grinning to themselves, while the Gryffindors were huddled round Madam Hooch, gesturing and gesticulating wildly. It lasted for a full two minutes before Madam Hooch had had enough. She blasted hard on her whistle and scattered the Gryffindors as she turned and flew toward the Staff Stand. Draco saw a frown crease her brow slightly when she noticed the lack of Staff spectators, but she seemed to get over it in a flash.

"The goal stands!" she said in an exasperated tone, "As will any other, so long as it is thrown by a chaser. I expect you to commentate accordingly Mr Creevey." Draco turned to Hermione and gave her an, 'I told you so nod'. Hermione hissed and shook her head as Madam Hooch took the microphone from Colin. "SLYTHERIN GOAL!" she roared, to mixed cheers and boos. "THE SCORE STANDS AT TEN POINTS EACH."

With that, she flew away to restart the match. Hermione moved closer to Draco as they both moved down the stand so that they weren't deafened by Colin's suddenly very agitated commentary. "You knew they were planning on this, didn't you?" she asked him with a sideways glare.

Draco put his arm round her and smiled. "Well, Etean may have mentioned it."

He wasn't sure, but Draco thought for a moment that Hermione tensed slightly when he mentioned Etean's name. He frowned and looked down at her, but Hermione just smiled at him and turned her attention to the game. Draco did likewise. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he watched Slytherin's lead grow. Blaise's tactics, bizarre though they had appeared on paper, were working a treat. Slytherin, in their current configuration, were playing with four chasers. The extra man gave them a dimension and an edge that Gryffindor simply couldn't deal with. The score clicked up, goal after goal soaring through the hoops, despite Weasley's best efforts. Draco cheered and clapped at each score, getting only hisses and rolled eyes from Hermione for his trouble. Her mood did seem to be improving though, she was smiling more at least.

Draco's eyes settled on Katie Bell, the Gryffindor captain, as she hovered to watch Ginny Weasley take a penalty shot after being fouled by Goyle. She looked stressed and pensive, Draco could guess her thoughts. As it was, her team were trailing by sixty points and were showing no signs of catching up anytime soon. They were simply unable to cope with the extra chaser and Slytherin was running rings around them at every opportunity. Nor could they simply adopt the Slytherin tactics. Draco grinned as he realised why. One reason was that they weren't prepared for it, the Slytherin team had practiced and rehearsed in this arrangement and could function as a unit seamlessly, whereas the best that the Gryffindors would be able to manage would be a clumsy, chaotic farce. Second, a fact which made Draco truly proud to be a Slytherin, the Gryffindors couldn't adopt their tactic because they saw it as immoral, as though it were beneath them. Slytherin wasn't cheating, the players were merely operating within an extreme bound of the rules, and such things were beyond the comprehension of the almighty Gryffindors.

Ginny scored her penalty and her whole team, along with a good portion of the stands, erupted with cheers. 'Why?' Draco thought. They weren't even close to catching up. Hermione gave her own little cheer and stood up to applaud Ginny's goal.

"I thought you weren't talking to them," Draco asked her as she sat down again.

"Ginny's my friend," Hermione said, still clapping at Ginny, who gave her a little wave, "Besides, she's the only one of them that is still talking to me."

"Oh," Draco said. His eyes followed Ginny as she circled around Etean once, grinning at him before shooting off back to her position in time for Blaise's throw out. So, Ginny Weasley was sticking by Hermione when all her other housemates weren't? The only word that Draco could think of to describe her behaviour was brave. Somehow he had never imagined her having the courage to stand up to the rest of them, maybe that was what Etean saw in her.

The game resumed, the quaffle shooting back and forth between the chasers at such a speed that it was little more than an orange blur. Draco had to fight to keep up with which player actually had it from second to second while Colin, for his part, was at least ten seconds behind. All of a sudden, there was a gasp from the crowd. Draco's eyes darted to Potter, who had just gone into a steep dive, his arm outstretched. Had he seen the snitch? If so, was Etean aware of it? Draco bounced to his feet and scanned the air beneath Potter, but it was no good, he was too far away to catch sight of the snitch. His eyes moved to Etean, he had pulled high out of the main fur ball of play and was watching Potter, watching, no more. After a moment, he dove down, snatched the Quaffle inches from Ginny's hand and hurled it behind his back to Stephen, who scored an impressive goal from thirty yards…Eighty points to twenty!

Draco returned his attention to Potter, who had arrested his dive and was now leaning on his broom, staring toward his goalpost and Weasley. "Nice try," Draco said slyly.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Potter tried to fake seeing the Snitch, hoping to pull Etean out of the way so the Gryffindor Chasers could get a breather," he commentated for her, "but Etean didn't go for it, he's too smart for that."

"Apparently," Hermione said distantly.

"You don't like Quidditch, do you?" he asked her.

"It isn't that," Hermione shrugged, "I like it when Gryffindor play, but that's mainly because of…my friends." Depression was edging into her voice again.

That wouldn't do. "We don't have to stay here if you don't want to."

Hermione smiled at him. "What? And have to listen to you moan on about missing it, all for little old me?" she shook her head, but was smiling. "Not likely."

"That would be annoying," Draco grinned, "But really, if you'd rather be somewhere else…"

"Where else is there?" Hermione shrugged. "Everyone is here."

"True," Draco gave her a wicked grin, "which means that the castle is pretty much deserted."

Hermione looked up at him, there was no doubting that she got his meaning. "Watch the match, Pureblood!" she elbowed him in the ribs gently.

There was a sudden sparkle in her eye that caught Draco's attention and raised his pulse. "Pureblood?" he said quizzically, letting the word roll off his tongue. "I'm not sure…was that meant to be an insult?"

Hermione smiled slyly at him. "That's for me to know, and you to find out!"

"Really?" Draco leaned down to kiss her. "Well in that case…consider this an investigation."

Their lips had barely met, when Hermione pushed him away, "I said watch the match!" she said in a forceful tone.

Draco suddenly couldn't care less about quidditch. "What match?" he said, leaning in again.

Hermione turned away from him when he was less than an inch from her, leaving him with a mouthful of hair for his trouble. "That match," she said, the air of playfulness still in her voice. "You wanted to watch it, so watch it. Save your energy for later."

"Later? What happens later?"

A tiny grin turned her lip. "That depends…"

"Depends on what?" Draco put his arm around her shoulder and tried to pull her closer to him, but she resisted.

"On how well you behave yourself," she said, shaking his arm loose, but not off, "and on who wins of course."

"What does that matter?" he said, scanning the play again.

"Well…if Gryffindor wins, then I'll be in a good mood, won't I?"

'And by implication, if Slytherin wins, you won't!' Draco got her game. He scanned the match again, and for the first time in his life, a thought entered his head. 'Come on GRYFFINDOR!'

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Etean ducked under a well aimed bludger and then rolled to the right hard to avoid a tackle from Katie Bell. He leaned back and killed his forward momentum, stopping himself in place as he released the quaffle. It flew straight into the waiting arms of Daniels, who rocketed skyward and then hurled it back to Etean. He caught it and, without even looking, flicked it to his right toward Nott, who slipped it past the exhausted Weasley….One hundred and ten points to thirty!

Etean didn't bother to congratulate Nott for his goal, he simply rounded in place and flew off, instinctively scanning the pitch in his free moments for the snitch. Doing two things at once was tough, the moves Blaise had them flying were very complicated but, thus far, Etean had it under control. The noise of the crowd and a corner eye watch on Potter would let him know the second the snitch made an appearance. Until then, he was playing chaser, and, he had to admit, having fun at it. He took a sideways glance at Nott, who held his hand high with his fist closed, and then slowly spread his fingers wide. Etean nodded and dropped down, flying paired with Annabelle while Daniels and Nott flew high in the front. Katie Bell caught the quaffle and passed it to Roger Dillon, who darted low, trying to sneak wide of Annabelle. Daniels and Nott looped back to chase him, while Etean and Annabelle shot forward, Annabelle toward Katie, Etean chasing Ginny. The tactic worked. Roger saw the two Slytherins pelting toward him and panicked, tossing the quaffle away toward his captain. Katie caught it, but then found herself trapped between Annabelle and Nott, who had reversed his tack toward her. Katie pulled up hard and passed the quaffle to Ginny, who just caught it ahead of Etean's grasp and shot away towards the goal. Etean swallowed a curse and then turned to follow her. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end suddenly and he hurled his weight to the side, narrowly avoiding first one, then the other bludger that had suddenly found him. By the time he recovered, he was just in time to watch Ginny feint left, then right, then toss the quaffle almost gently over Blaise's shoulder into the centre hoop….One hundred and ten points to forty!

"Well done kid," he whispered to himself as he drifted back toward Blaise.

The quaffle was returned to Blaise, who turned on Etean. "Where the hell were you?" he roared.

Etean ignored the tone of his voice and shrugged. "Bludger trouble," he said simply.

"Bludgers? Where the hell were the Lumpheads?"

'Good question!' Etean thought. He turned round to see Crabbe and Goyle circling high, tracking after Potter, taking Blaise's pre-match words a little too literally. Etean accepted the quaffle from Blaise as he started to roar at them like a mad bull. Etean shot out from the goal low, then pulled into a high looping arc across the pitch, faking twice before hurling the quaffle to Nott and dropping back into the pack. Etean caught it and passed it on once more before his senses registered a new danger. His mind reached out for the incoming bludger, but neither of them was near. Confusion took hold of him and he pushed his senses out further. A second, larger tingle of danger shot down his neck into his spine and this time he knew where it was coming from. He stopped in place and stared at his hand. His ring was glowing, an alarm signal from the Council!

'What the hell?' his mind raced. An alarm signal? Now? What would cause them to do that? The crowd around him roared as Nott slammed yet another goal home. Etean only barely registered it. He had to report in and find out what was going on, which meant that this game was over, it had to end now!

As seeker the proposition was simple, to end the game, catch the snitch! His eyes searched for and found Potter. He was circling high, hunting in growing desperation. At this rate, the gap between the teams would exceed the one hundred and fifty point mark in minutes and Potter had to grab the snitch before that. Good! He could catch the damned thing for all Etean cared at this minute, so long as he did it quickly. Etean scanned the pitch again, the snitch, where was the snitch?

He saw it! Thirty feet above the ground, damn near over the centre spot, hovering in place. Etean whistled loud to tell his team-mates that he wasn't playing chaser anymore and dove after it at top speed. At the bottom of his dive he rolled left to avoid a collision with Annabelle, and then levelled out and shot after the snitch. He accelerated as fast as he could, faster than was really prudent. The snitch hadn't moved, at this rate he would grab it in five seconds.

'Five,' the crowd roared, sensing that a Snitch capture was near.

'Four,' Etean leaned low and stretched out his hand.

'Three,' the ring on his outstretched hand flared bright again as the Council repeated their alarm signal.

'Two,' Etean felt his senses touch against a new danger, but it was too late to do anything but brace himself.

'One'…BOOM!

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Hermione cheered again as Ginny Weasley managed to evade Etean's challenge and scored. That girl had some real skill, Draco begrudgingly admitted to himself. Hermione definitely seemed to be a lot happier than she had been, even though her side was still losing horribly. Every little victory that Gryffindor achieved seemed to lift her spirits.

Forcing his attention back to the game, Draco saw Etean take the quaffle from Blaise and head out. He swept through the field of players and then tossed the quaffle to Theo. Theo took it and dodged rapidly round Ginny and Roger Dillon, performed a quick one-two with Annabelle to avoid Katie Bell's challenge and then blindsided Weasley to notch up another goal.

"It's not looking good," Hermione said matter-of-factly, not really sounding upset about it.

"That depends on how you look at it, doesn't it?" Draco asked with a smile.

Hermione moved closer to him and smiled back. "I suppose it does."

A loud whistle split the air. Draco's head snapped round and he caught sight of Etean dropping like a stone toward the ground. Draco somehow knew that Etean wouldn't try to fake Potter out so obviously, which meant that he was really after the snitch! Draco leapt to his feet and surged forward to the railing to get a better view. Hermione arrived a split second after him and they both leaned out to see what was going on. Draco spotted the snitch, Etean was indeed zeroing in on it as it fluttered about over the centre of the pitch. There was a loud 'OOH' from the crowd. Draco looked up to see Potter reeling. Crabbe or Goyle had hit him hard with a bludger – doing their job with a touch of skill for once. The blow must have hit Potter hard to send him spinning like that, but he managed to recover quite rapidly and then dove after Etean. Draco was surprised by his dedication, but noticed that Potter was definitely favouring his left side as he flew.

Draco's eyes darted back and forth between Potter and Etean. Potter was plummeting like a stone and showed no sign of stopping. Controlling his broom one handed like that, Draco doubted if he could arrest the dive even if he tried. What's more, if he didn't turn soon, he was going to collide with Etean. Etean was unaware of this, he was hell bent on the snitch and the angle of Potters approach meant he wouldn't see him till it was too late. Draco reached out, trying to send Etean a warning, but there was no time. Etean was an inch from catching the snitch when they collided.

CRUNCH!!!!

There was a loud gasp from the crowd as the two players merged into a tangled ball of limbs. Hermione winced beside Draco as the unmistakable sound of breaking wood filled the stadium. Colin Creevey's commentary fell silent with a gasp. With the force of the collision, Draco seriously doubted if either player had remained conscious. His stomach lurched as the ball started to separate, green going one way, orange the other.

"Are they alright?" the unanswerable question from Hermione failed to conjure up a response. Draco concentrated, slowing time to get a better view. Potter fell almost straight down, continuing as he was before the collision. He was awake, if battered, and he was still clutching to his broom, so he would survive. Draco's eyes moved to Etean, realising suddenly that the sound of the wood snapping had been his, or rather Draco's broom shattering. Draco could make out pieces of it falling downward below him, lots of pieces…the broom had been completely destroyed. That left Etean in some difficulty. At the speed he had been travelling, no, that he was still travelling, if he hit the ground unconscious…

Draco's eyes narrowed in concentration and reached out to him. 'ETEAN!' he forced as much effort into the thought as he could, trying to stir Etean to consciousness. It worked…at least he thought it did. Etean woke up. Draco felt a surge of sensation stir in him, followed by a sudden realisation of his predicament.

'Fuck!' the thought came back.

Draco relaxed, time accelerated. Draco watched as Etean turned in the air, twisting to fly level, still carried by sheer momentum that was now starting to ebb. The ground was now becoming a real prospect to be dealt with. Draco felt Etean tense, then the connection faded away, Etean faded away. Draco blinked, Etean was shrinking. The crowd in the stands let out a second gasp as they too saw the change. Draco watched, open mouthed as Etean became smaller and smaller, the green of his robes faded to golden brown and suddenly, where Etean had been, an eagle now flew.

The eagle beat its wings and soared upward, clearing the stand and the stunned crowd to bank high over the goal posts.

"Did you know he could do that?" Hermione asked, sounding astonished.

"He's full of surprises," Draco said as simply as he could, only now remembering one night in the woods, being rescued by an eagle.

Etean soared over the pitch again, letting out a mighty shriek as he swooped low over the stands. He circled once more then came to rest on the centremost goal hoop at the Slytherin end. The tiny dot that was the eagle Etean grew large again as he transformed. He straightened up, rather stiffly Draco thought and held his hand aloft. The sunlight glinted of something gold in his right hand as he held it aloft.

"HE'S…HE'S GOT THE SNITCH," Colin called in his most high pitched squeal yet, "ROBERT ETEAN HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH…SLYTHERIN WINS."

He didn't sound happy, more shocked. Draco, like everyone else, took a moment to catch up. Then slowly, starting with the Slytherin stand, and then spreading to the others, cheering started.

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Etean straightened up, wincing hard as his broken ribs and ruptured organs complained. He ignored them as best he could as his body set about the task of healing itself. The snitch returned to his clenched hand. He didn't remember catching it. Where had it gone to? He had often wondered where things like clothes and wands went when a person transformed. The question fascinated him right now, where had it gone? A blast of cold wind hit him and opened his senses. He remembered where he was, and blinked when he realised how far from the ground he was, standing on a narrow goal hoop.

He raised his hand and waved the snitch around, trying to piece together what had just happened. The match! He had been inches from the snitch when, out of nowhere, a massive lump of something had slammed into him. Hit him hard! What the hell was it? He shook his head, fighting away a sudden wave of dizziness. 'Think, Robert, what happened?' The collision, a blur of colour and pain, and then he had wings and was flying, and then he was landing, and now he was here. There were other details, but there was no room for them in his head at the moment. He brandished the snitch again. He had caught it. That was good, right? The crowd, there was a crowd around him, and they seemed to think so. Etean waved the snitch at them and they started to cheer. The noise quickly overwhelmed Etean's shaky senses. He shook his head and tried to force himself to focus. The Slytherin team were circling above him, clapping and cheering. Etean rubbed his temple and caught Nott's eye. He beckoned him down and then clambered onto his broom.

Nott set off, aiming for a lap of honour, but Etean bellowed at him, "Land this thing, now!"

The team continued to circle them as they descended. Blaise seemed to be beside himself with joy. He kept flying close and pounding Etean's back to congratulate him, despite Etean yelling at him to leave off. Once on the ground, Etean wasted no time in heading to the changing rooms. He was in a hurry for some reason, though his mind still refused to tell him what it was. He paused as he spotted Ginny standing with her own team. They were huddled around an orange lump on the pitch with more Gryffindors racing toward them from the stands. Ginny looked worried, as did her team-mates. She looked over at him and smiled. Etean smiled back and lifted his arm to wave, ignoring the spasm of pain in his shoulder.

Potter!

He was the lump on the pitch, and the lump that had collided with him in the air. Fuck, can that boy not fly a broom? Etean shook his head, he needed a shower, anything to clear his head and allow him to think clearly. There was something…something he had to do. The cheers of the crowd turned into a dull echoing roar as he entered the tunnel.

"We did it, we fucking did it!" Nott cheered behind him. Etean grimaced as a cramp in his chest sent a wave of pain through him. Nott was joined by Annabelle and Blaise in his celebrations. Etean tried his best to ignore their joviality, for some reason he didn't share it. His body hurt too much for one thing, but there was…something else. The team roared at him, trying to drag him into their cheers, but he didn't respond. He entered the changing room and shed his robes as he crossed to the showers. He stepped inside and turned his face upward to the jet of water.

'That's better,' he thought. The sounds from the changing room were of uncontrolled celebration. Etean ran his hand through his hair and opened his eyes.

"Etean….Etean," Annabelle's cherubim voice came from outside the showers, "Come on out here!" she ordered. Etean ignored her. His mind was running through the match, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to be doing. He lifted his hands to rub his face, and saw his ring!

'Oh fuck!' he said, as he remembered.

"ALL STUDENTS ARE TO RETURN TO THEIR HOUSE DORMATORIES IMMEDIATLEY AND REMAIN THERE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!" McGonagall's voice, magically amplified, sounded from somewhere in the ceiling. Etean shut his eyes. 'This can't be a coincidence.'

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Draco turned into the corridor outside the changing rooms. Hermione stopped beside him, her head angled toward the pitch entrance. Draco knew that she was desperate to know how Potter was after the collision. They had remained in the stands, staring down at him until the gathered crowd had obscured him from view.

"Go on, they won't bite," he said to her, pointing out the door. She still seemed hesitant, "Do you want me to come out there with you?" he offered.

Hermione turned to him and shook her head. "No, it's alright...I'll be alright," she said with a smile. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you later?" she asked.

"Sure," he nodded.

Hermione took hold of his jacket with both hands. "You mean it this time?" she asked warningly.

Draco took hold of her hands. "I mean it. I'll see you in an hour in the Entrance Hall, alright?"

"Fine, be there!" she ordered and left.

Draco watched her go, feeling the sense of relief return to him. That was close…too close for comfort. Still, he shook his head, close was better than the alternative. There was a great clamour coming through the door of the Slytherin changing room, not that he had expected anything less. It had been what, six years since Slytherin had beaten Gryffindor, and they had pounded them today so they had a right to laugh it up.

Draco was about to open the door, when, "ALL STUDENTS ARE TO RETURN TO THEIR HOUSE DORMATORIES IMMEDIATLEY AND REMAIN THERE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!"

It sounded like McGonagall, but what the hell was going on? Draco stood, transfixed and perplexed. He heard the announcement being repeated out in the stadium. Apparently, McGonagall was serious. The changing room door opened in front of him and Stephen Daniels emerged, followed closely by Annabelle. "Malfoy?" she said when she saw him, "Do you know what's going on?"

Draco shook his head. "Not a clue!"

Annabelle moved aside to make room for Theo as he emerged, looking as confused as the others. He looked at Draco for a moment, then shrugged. "Ah well, guess our celebrations will just have to be confined to the Common Room then, eh?" he said nonchalantly, looping his arm around Annabelle and heading off toward the school. The rest of the team emerged a few seconds later. Crabbe and Goyle were waving their mallets around madly, bellowing an unintelligible victory chant. Blaise, whose head seemed to be a bit bigger, what with the ten inch grin that Draco imagined would become a permanent fixture, paused at the door and called inside. "Hurry up Etean, this is going to be one hell of a party!"

Draco didn't hear the response, but Blaise apparently did. He nodded and left, pausing only to clap Draco on the back and thank him for suggesting Etean as the replacement Seeker before he disappeared too. Draco scowled, this temporary Seeker thing was certainly sounding more permanent. 'But', he thought, 'what does it matter?' Shrugging, he opened the door and went inside. Etean was nowhere in sight, but Draco could hear him moving about in the showers.

"Can you lock that door?" Etean's voice came from behind the wall.

"What?" Draco asked him.

"The door," Etean sounded slightly annoyed, "Lock it!"

Draco shrugged, but took out his wand and did as he was bid. "Done," he said. Etean emerged behind him, a towel wrapped about his waist and drying his hair with another. He paused inside the room and glanced at the door. He untangled a hand from the towel and waved at the door. Draco heard the noise from outside fade away. He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Etean looped the towel around his neck. "We don't want to be disturbed," he said simply.

"We don't?" Draco asked.

"No." Etean sounded serious, he looked around, as though checking where Draco was standing. "Step back," he said, pointing to the far wall, "sit over there and, no matter what happens, say NOTHING!"

Draco was now profoundly confused, but did as he was told. He walked to the wall and sat down. Etean hissed under his breath; Draco thought he saw the ring on his right hand flash briefly. Etean turned to the opposite bench and waved his hand over it. A large, silver bowl appeared. Etean reached down, Draco heard a splash. "Poliakov," Etean said quietly.

There was a pause and then, "There you are, Boy, what took you so long?"

Draco saw Etean tense slightly. "I was in the middle of something, Old Man."

'Old Man?' Draco was aware that Etean would probably address Lord Poliakov in a slightly informal manner, but, Old Man?

"What?" Poliakov's voice sounded agitated.

Etean sighed. "A quidditch match, if you must know."

"Quidditch? Why…"

"Don't ask," Etean cut him off, "Listen, things are a bit…weird here, so I don't have much time. What's going on?"

There was a definite pause. "Graham is dead."

Draco sat bolt upright. Etean froze in place. "Graham? Graham Kavanagh? How?"

"Details are still sketchy, but one thing is clear…Voldemort was responsible."

Etean paused. "How did Voldemort get Kavanagh?"

"Well," Poliakov sighed, "I suppose I should start at the beginning…a little over two hours ago, Voldemort's forces launched an assault on the Auror Headquarters in Coventry." Draco saw Etean visibly tense. "This attack was a surprise to us, not only in its sheer size, but also in the manner in which it was carried out. It represents a departure from the existing pattern of attacks."

Draco felt real fear start to edge into his mind. Etean didn't seem to be feeling the same. "How so?" he asked, calm as you like.

"The initial, somewhat confused reports we received were of a marauding group of giants wreaking havoc. They were smashing everything and everyone in sight, a real mess." Poliakov scoffed slightly, Etean didn't react. "We knew of course that Voldemort was behind it, many of the giants have allied themselves with him, though they have been quiet as yet. At first we were prepared to accept merely as change in tactics, an attempt to cause mass panic, but we discovered in short order that we were in error, this was bigger."

"Bigger?"

"Yes, for one thing, the giants weren't attacking alone. At least a dozen trolls were working in cooperation with them. Also the reports on their behaviour had them attacking the civilian wizard population at large rather than a specific individual or group, thus purposefully making themselves targets for the Aurors that responded to the attack in the process."

"Giants and trolls…" Etean sounded contemplative. He tensed. "A diversion?"

"Indeed," Poliakov sighed, "We realised that too, though not until after we learned that the Death Eaters had joined the battle, evading the main Auror force to assault their headquarters directly."

"How many of them?"

Poliakov sighed. "From what we know, most of them. The details are vague. We had a member, Alistair Ryan, present amongst the Ministry staff, though he fell during the first wave, leaving us in the dark at the worst possible time. It was clear to us that things were getting serious, we needed first hand information so Lord Kavanagh volunteered to go there and observe the battle as it developed."

'Lord Kavanagh? Oh hell!' Draco felt an icy shiver run down his spine. A lord of the Circle had fallen? Somehow, Draco hadn't thought it even possible.

"Observe, but not interfere right?" Etean sounded a little bit annoyed as he asked this. Draco raised his eyebrow but made no comment.

"There was nothing else we could do, Boy," Poliakov said soothingly, "by the time we learned of it, the battle was already in full flow, and as you know, we lack the resources to fight this war toe to toe with the enemy."

Etean raised a hand and rubbed his eye. "Save the lecture, Old Man, just tell me what happened to Kavanagh."

Poliakov paused. Draco was surprised at just how far Etean was pushing him without reprisal. "Graham arrived on scene, just as the Aurors had managed to regroup. The messages we received from him said that they were putting up a hell of a fight, but that they were facing impossible odds."

"Did they call for help?"

"Yes, but not in time. The last report we received from Graham informed us that the Death Eaters had breached the walls of the headquarters and that fighting had gone hand to hand in the corridors. Then his messages simply…stopped. We received no word that he was in danger, no indication of his being noticed. The first we learned of his fate was when his ring materialised in the Council Chamber."

Etean sighed. "He sent it back?"

"He must have," Poliakov replied. "The only conclusion that makes sense is that he was injured or cornered and chose to give up his life to return the ring to us rather than see it fall into the hands of the enemy."

"That was…noble of him," there was no trace of any emotion in Etean's voice. That was wrong, Etean knew this person, Draco was sure of it. He had no idea how well he knew him, but there had to be some reaction, hadn't there?

"Indeed," Poliakov said quietly, "he served till the end. We will wait for the dust to settle, and then we will recover his body."

"As it should be," Etean said the words as though reciting a mantra.

"As it will be," Poliakov responded in the same fashion.

There was a long pause. Etean stared at the bowl. Draco could see his eyes moving as he thought things through. "Where do things stand now then?"

"We are not sure…since Graham's demise, we have been somewhat cut off. And we are reluctant to send anyone else, so we are now forced to rely on second hand reports and communication intercepts. It appears, however, that the Death Eaters are digging in."

Now Etean did look surprised. "They are going to hold the city?"

"Part of it at least…we'll know more as it unfolds."

Etean seemed to mull this over. "I understand."

"I know you do, Boy, which is why I know you will understand what I am about to say. It is time for this plan to end." Draco tensed, end? He didn't like the sound of that one bit. "Things are progressing beyond our ability to control or predict. We cannot plan, or prepare in this any longer and so we must cut our losses."

Draco watched every move Etean made. He stared forward for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not ready to give up just yet."

Poliakov laughed. "I'm sure you aren't…you never are. The Council, however, has decided that it is time, so this constitutes an order."

Draco swallowed. Etean lowered himself toward the water. "No, it doesn't," he said in a stern tone, "The Council cannot order me to do anything. Only a unanimous vote by all the other members can give them that power," he paused, "Did you vote for it?"

"I haven't voted yet. I wanted to speak to you before it came to that."

"Well, it has come to that. Cast your vote now," Etean's voice remained calm, "We can carry on, we have to. This is our one chance to win this without total war. You yourself told me that, were you wrong?"

Poliakov paused. "No," he said, "I wasn't, but in light of this tragedy…"

"This tragedy is what it is," Etean snapped, "But we are in this, we are committed, and this is not the time to turn tail and run!"

"They are not running, they feel that they are merely being prudent. In any event, it is their decision, whether you and I agree with it or not is irrelevant. Who are we to contradict them?"

"When last I checked," Etean's face twisted into a joyless grin, "we were _members_ of the Council with an equal vote to the rest of them. I vote to continue, if you do too, then the rest will have to follow suit."

"They will object, Boy, and we cannot be divided now, not now."

Etean shook his head. "We won't be. You are the senior member, Old Man, you can convince them. They will listen to you."

"You flatter me." Poliakov didn't sound flattered.

"When have I ever done that?" Etean laughed. Then his face went slack. "The rest of the Council is wrong, Old Man, we can still do this, I know we can."

"And what if you are the one that is wrong?"

Etean paused and set his face. "Do you trust me?"

Poliakov paused. "You know I do."

"And have I ever failed you? Ever?"

"Never!"

"Then I want you to listen to me when I tell you, I can see this out…we have to see this out."

Draco held his breath without realising; his fate was being decided right in front of him, and he was suddenly too terrified to move. How far would Etean resist if Poliakov held to his line? "Very well then," Poliakov answered at last, "As you say, so shall it be. I will inform the Council…they won't be pleased but…"

"They won't have much of a choice will they?"

"No, I don't suppose they will. But you should know that if I am to persuade them to acquiesce to your wishes, convince them as you so eloquently put it, then I will have to support their choice for a replacement for Lord Kavanagh when one is put forward, as will you. That may lead to problems for us both down the road."

"When this is finished, Old Man, what will it matter?"

"Our mission will still continue, Boy. All going well, we will have this treaty signed inside a month, but that is just the beginning. Should the Council be divided, we stand to lose everything."

Etean shook his head. "We will just have to deal with that if and when it happens."

A pause and then, "Very well, good luck, Boy. I will keep you informed as always."

Etean nodded, then straightened and waved his hand over the bowl; it vanished. Draco suddenly became very aware of his heart pounding in his ears. "How close was that?" he asked.

Etean didn't turn round; he set his hands on his hips. "Close," he sighed, "You are lucky that Poliakov listens to me."

Draco didn't feel lucky, what he felt was worried. Something about Etean's behaviour was worrying him. He seemed to be tense, though he wasn't showing it, he was more taut than usual. "Sorry about your broom," he said suddenly, making Draco jump.

"What? Oh…don't worry about it, it wasn't your fault."

"Still," Etean ran the towel through his hair, "I should replace it…I'll order you a new one tomorrow."

Draco frowned. "Are you alright?"

Etean tossed the towel onto the bench. "I have three broken ribs, a concussion and unless I'm very much mistaken, a ruptured spleen on top of about a thousand aches and pains, but," he turned to look at Draco, "I'll get over it."

Etean walked slowly to the corner and shed his towel. Draco watched him cautiously as he pulled some plain, black robes over his head and started to fasten them up. "That wasn't what I meant," he said when it felt safe to speak, "I meant…Lord Kavanagh…you knew him?"

"Of course I did," he said in a flat tone, "I have served the Circle for over twelve years and been on the Council for almost ten months. How could I not know him?"

"How well did you know him?"

"Well enough," Etean picked up his quidditch robes and stuffed them into the team laundry basket, "I had to report to him for a couple of years, he directed field operations for the Circle…that was always my area of expertise," he paused, a distant look in his eyes, "He was forever telling me that I was reckless, irresponsible," he looked at Draco, no emotion in his eyes, "But which of us got himself killed eh?"

Draco didn't have the words to answer that. He was spared having to when McGonagall's voice boomed out again, repeating her order for all students to return to their dormitories.

Etean looked up as he heard the announcement. "Right, we get the point!" he said, running a hand through his hair. "Come on, we have a party to go to, and I for one feel like getting blind drunk." He unlocked the door and left, Draco trailing out after him.

_A/N: Well, here we are again._

_People have asked how many more chaps there will be, and the honest answer is that I don't know. I have decided to kind of roll chaps into each other (things that would be divided before will now run together, this is for handiness sake purely)_

_Patience is a Virtue, at least that's what I was told, I didn't listen to the rest._

_Thanks to all reviewers, comments are of course welcome._

_See ya later kids._


	44. Dumbledore's Move

The bell rang at the end of charms class. Hermione stood and silently started to pack up her books and papers. Around her, she was dimly aware of the rest of the class packing up and then filing out of the room with, as far as past experience went, a minimum of noise. Hermione hefted her bag and paused to nod a goodbye to Professor Flitwick. She needn't have bothered, as the Professor was merely a flash of tangled white hair disappearing behind the door of his office when Hermione looked up. She shrugged silently and turned to leave.

Outside, she joined the passing throng of students, only paying cursory attention to where she was heading. She had walked the route from charms to transfiguration so often over the years that her legs knew the way. Hermione's mind idled as she walked, consciously trying not to think. She passed through the corridor more or less unnoticed. Those that passed her by paid her no heed. On each it their faces, she saw the same hollow expression. Hermione knew the reason, it didn't require any level of genius to work it out; they were scared! Their thoughts all centred miles away, about 200 miles away to be precise…in Coventry. Two weeks ago it was a word, no more than the name of a city she had never visited, or even thought much about. Now to think of something else was all but impossible. What little information had been made public about the battle, and its aftermath, what was now being referred to as the Occupation, was sketchy, but it was still more than enough to make her stomach churn.

Hermione shivered, winter was setting in and making its presence felt. The air was really starting to get colder, but that wasn't the only reason she shivered. The atmosphere in the school seemed to be…heavy somehow. There was an almost tangible weight to the air, a heavy presence that spread through the corridors like a pervasive icy cloud. At its touch, joy evaporated, hope vanished. That fear didn't belong here, this place was supposed to be safe from it, but it was here nonetheless, and was now so omnipresent that Hermione honestly couldn't remember what it was like not to feel it bearing down on her. Nobody was beyond its reach, even Flitwick, normally so cheerful that he was a serious fire hazard even on the most sombre of days, now seemed detached and empty inside. The spark of joy was gone from his eyes, the music lost from his voice.

The blank faces continued to pass before her, amongst them Hermione recognised Hannah Abbot. Her head was bowed a little more than the others, an extra hunch to her shoulders as she headed to wherever she was going. Hermione felt a painful pang of pity for her. Hannah's brother Martin, her only sibling, was missing, presumed…well he was missing. There had been no word of or from him since Coventry had fallen. Hermione's mind couldn't come close to understanding what Hannah was going through, the grief, the uncertainty, the pain…maybe she just didn't want to. She remembered the feeling of outrage she had felt when she had heard his story, and that was bad enough. Martin was just a bystander, not in any way connected to either side in the battle. He was innocent…as if that mattered…and had been in the wrong place at the worst time imaginable. Still, Hannah hadn't skipped a class or missed an assignment. Hermione assumed that she was trying to be brave about it, after all, there was always hope…wasn't there? A lot of people were missing, but they couldn't all be dead…could they? A shudder ran through Hermione, a thought, emanating from a dark, cold spot in the back of her mind rang clear,

'They could be! Are you willing to put that past Voldemort?'

The name sent a second shudder through her. Ye gods, she cursed herself silently, why couldn't she even think his name without fear? Hermione shook her head and pushed the question aside for another time. Hannah's hope, however flimsy, was genuine. According to the Daily Prophet reports, there were well over a hundred people still unaccounted for after the assault. Their fate was not known, the paper had stressed this, and they had stressed that no conclusion or supposition as to their fate could be made at this point. The Minister of Magic himself had written several editorials, appealing for calm, for unity, for strength in the face of this crisis.

Hermione turned a corner and checked her pace so as not to collide with the people in front of her on the stairs as she climbed. What the papers hadn't said, she mused, was what was being done about it. What plans did the Ministry have underway to determine the fate of the missing people? Were they planning to strike back, and if so, how soon? Ok, Hermione knew that even, or perhaps especially, if the Ministry was planning on retaking the city, they certainly wouldn't be fool enough to advertise their intentions in the paper. And it was true that, if the mood of the students in the school was any indication, the more immediate reaction shared by the majority of the wizarding population was one of panic, not one of outrage. They were seeking shelter, not revenge. The Minister was merely trying to give them what they wanted, placating them in a barely concealed but nonetheless desperate attempt to prevent mass panic.

Hermione reached the corridor outside the Transfiguration classroom and paused. The other students in the class were gathered outside the door so she assumed that it was locked or that the previous class hadn't finished. This was not uncommon; Professor McGonagall had a tendency to regard such things as the end of class bell as distracting irritants that attempted to separate her from her classes at inconvenient times. Deciding not to bother to even try to talk to any of the other students, Hermione instead turned her attention to the window, and the world outside.

The vast expanse of the Forbidden Forest stretched into the distance beneath her. The wind blowing through the canopy of trees made the forest ripple and heave like a great, mottled green sea. Movement at the edge of the trees caught Hermione's attention. She looked down as Hagrid emerged into the light, bundling his massive coat about him against the wind. It occurred to her that she hadn't spoken to Hagrid in months…things seemed to keep cropping up to get in the way. What business did he have in the forest today? Had he bought a new pet that he was trying to hide? Or had he found another bizarre relative to keep Grawp company? Hermione smiled as she reminisced about the days when those sorts of questions would have consumed her. She watched as Hagrid took a couple of steps into the open, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. A moment later, Professor Dumbledore appeared.

Hermione stood bolt upright, Dumbledore! So far as she knew, the Headmaster hadn't been seen in the school since the news of Coventry had broken. He had cancelled their last Order meeting with nothing more than a cursory message about being needed in London. Instinctively, she turned her head toward Harry. He would want to know that Dumbledore was back. She got to the point of opening her mouth when she remembered that he would probably just ignore her. Besides he was standing against the far wall talking to Dean. Hermione shook her head and swallowed a nasty thought that had appeared from nowhere in her mind. Harry would just have to find out on his own. She turned her attention back to the window, and blinked. Dumbledore was nowhere in sight, Hagrid was gone too. Where had they gone? There hadn't been enough time for them to have crossed the grounds to the castle, and they had just been leaving the forest, hadn't they?

Hermione screwed her eyes shut for a moment and then looked again. She had seen them, hadn't she? She shook her head, maybe not. Maybe she had just imagined the whole thing. It wasn't as though hallucinations were all that uncommon for her lately. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the edge of the forest again.

"It's called a window, Hermione," Draco's voice purred in her ear, "You must have seen them before."

Hermione turned her head slightly, just enough to bring Draco into her periphery. He was grinning. She shrugged, "I have," she said in as flat a tone as she could, "but they aren't as pretty as this one," she reached out and idly stroked the glass.

"Ok," Draco said slowly. He stepped forward and turned round to sit on the window ledge. "Pretty windows…sure." he said in a distant voice. His eyes narrowed slightly, "Good morning?" he asked.

"The usual," Hermione responded. The usual being her attending classes, spending her time taking notes in silence while generally being ignored by everyone around her. A quiet, study encouraging lifestyle, it was strange that it annoyed her so. Things weren't as bad as they had been, at least the stares were gone and the whispers silenced, but she was still being treated as an outcast. Being ignored by the majority of her house bugged her, but she was getting used to it. Behind her, the classroom door opened and Professor Snape stepped out. He washed a hard glare across the gathered students for a moment before stalking off without a word. Professor McGonagall appeared at the door and beckoned them inside.

"I wonder what Snape was doing here," Draco whispered in Hermione's ear.

She shrugged, "I have no idea," she said aloud, but privately she thought, 'Probably something to do with the Order, though what, exactly, is anybody's guess.'

Hermione moved into the transfiguration room and dropped into a seat near the back. Draco sat down next to her. Professor McGonagall was standing behind her desk looking none too pleased.

"Come along," she barked, "Settle down there." The class eventually obeyed. Everyone was just about settled and the Professor was just gearing up to begin her lecture when the door opened to admit Etean. He grunted a brief apology to the Professor before sitting down beside Theodore Nott. Professor McGonagall directed an icy stare at him before she cleared her throat loudly to restore order.

"Now then," her gaze moved away from Etean, "If everyone is ready…we can get started." She paused to check the time by the large clock on her desk and scowled even further. "Our last discussion ended with my addressing the dangers inherent to transformations involving the so called, high level magical creatures. I believe I had just started outlining the unicorn as a prime example. The properties of the unicorn…" she trailed off as she appeared to notice something on her desk, "Oh…bother it," she took up a scroll from atop a large pile. "Your essays from last week," she said absently, "I had intended on returning them to you today but we are already behind time as it is…" she trailed off and looked around the room. Her face set as though she had just made a rapid decision, "Miss Granger, if you please," she nodded toward Hermione, "Will you return these to their respective owners while I continue?"

Hermione nodded and stood up. The Professor resumed her lecture as Hermione silently made her way to the top of the class. She selected several of the scrolls and began returning them to their owners. Most of the students gave her at least nod of acknowledgement, some even thanked her. Ron didn't however and nor did Harry, but she refused to let them bother her. 'Forget them,' she told herself yet again. Hermione's mind gave the usual growl as she approached, he was scowling slightly at nothing in particular, and took his essay without as much as making eye contact. His apparent bad mood aroused curiosity in her mind, as did pretty much everything he did, but it was instantly forgotten when she turned to Theodore. Hermione swallowed hard as he slowly and deliberately looked her up and down before accepting his essay. As he took it, a small grin twisted the corner of his lip, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. She was glad to be able to simply turn and walk away from him. Her eyes moved to Draco. He gave her an almost invisible wink without really turning his head. Feeling better, she got on with her task.

Over the next five minutes, she visited every desk, every student with their essay. It wasn't until she had delivered the last of them that she realised that her own was missing. She returned to the teacher's desk and looked on the floor around and under it, presuming that her essay must have fallen, but there was no trace of it.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked her.

Hermione spun to face the Professor, "Erm, I can't seem to find my essay Professor."

"Can't find …" McGonagall scoffed and marched over to the desk, "Are you sure it isn't here?"

"I can't see it," Hermione answered honestly.

Professor McGonagall's eyes darted about the desk in a cursory search before she sighed. "Well I know I graded it…very highly if memory serves," she set her hands on her hips and sighed, "I must have left it in my office," she pointed toward the door at the rear of the room. Hermione didn't move, Professor McGonagall nodded at her, "It should be on my desk, Miss Granger."

Hermione blinked, the Professor wanted her to go into her office and collect her essay? Why? It wasn't that important, she could just as easily collect if after class. She was about to say as much to the Professor when she caught her eye. Something in the blank stare looking back at her snagged in Hermione's mind. After a moment's pause, she nodded and headed off to the office.

Hermione had been in Professor McGonagall's office before, but never alone. It felt strange, as though she were trespassing, this was the Professor's private study. Still, she felt oddly at home in here, Professor McGonagall's love of books rivalled Hermione's, the office was filled to the rafters with shelves crammed to bursting with innumerable volumes and tomes. Hermione's eyes scanned the nearest shelf, skimming the titles, mentally checking off the one's she had read and noting the one's she hadn't. Outside, she could hear the Professor continue her lecture. She shook herself, 'Better hurry up so I don't miss too much.' She made her way over to the Professor's desk, barely glancing at the stacks of books on the shelves around her, the better to avoid distraction. Compared to the rest of the office, the desk itself was starkly bare. The polished, dark wooden surface was clean except for two things. The first was her essay, resting neatly as though deliberately left there, and the second was a small, sealed envelope. Hermione looked at it for a moment, and then shook herself, 'None of your business,' she thought harshly, 'just grab the essay and leave!' Hermione leaned over the desk to retrieve the essay and froze. The envelope was addressed to her.

Her essay was forgotten in an instant. A letter for her? Here? Frowning, she reached for it with unsteady fingers. Breaking the seal, she opened the envelope and extracted the single sheet of parchment. It was from Dumbledore and was definitely meant for her. Her frown deepened as she read. The letter wasn't confusing, it was a simple message informing her of an Order meeting later that evening, and instructing her to inform Harry and Ron with suitable care. 'Great!' What struck her as odd was the manner in which the letter had been delivered. The secrecy of it she understood, but surely there had to be a simpler way for the Headmaster to call a meeting than this.

Professor McGonagall's voice echoed in the air, she was berating Millicent Bullstrode over something. The sound snapped Hermione back to reality, she bundled the letter into her pocket and snatched her essay from the desk before heading out. She nodded quickly to the Professor as she passed and returned to her seat.

"How did you get on?" Draco asked.

"What?" Hermione turned to him, what did he mean?

"The essay, how did you do?" he asked, pointing to his own essay that he had unrolled on the desk in front of him. Hermione smiled when she looked down and saw the large letter 'E' penned at the top beside his name.

"Well done," she beamed at him.

Draco nodded and grinned back at her, "Well?"

Hermione frowned, "Well?"

Draco sighed, "What…grade…did…you…get?" he spelled out, stressing every word.

Hermione blinked; what grade _had_ she got? She looked down at her essay and unrolled it, "O," she said simply.

Draco shook his head, "I don't get you, you get the highest possible grade and you sound as though you don't care."

Hermione shook her head, "I do care…it's just…"

"What?" he frowned.

Hermione paused, "Oh, nothing…just…pay attention," she nodded toward the Professor, who had turned to a diagram on the board to illustrate her points.

Draco shrugged and turned away. Hermione's mind raced, her eyes moved automatically to Harry, and to Ron beside him. She would have to find a moment alone with them to pass on the message from Dumbledore, but she'd probably have to nail them in place to do it. That would be fun.

'Just bloody great!' she thought to herself miserably.

* * *

Hermione turned into the corridor that led to Dumbledore's office. Ron and Harry were already standing by the gargoyle waiting for her. Hermione sighed, 'Why oh why did Dumbledore have to tell me the password and not them?' she asked herself for the hundredth time. It was her own fault, this row had been her doing. She could have just told them and saved herself the aggravation. But, the note had been clear about one thing, the password was to be treated as privileged information and, seeing as how she was going to be at the meeting with them, there was no reason for them to know it. That was the logic of it at least, more realistically she had kept the password to herself deliberately to cause a row – at least they would pay attention to her then. She saw Ron look in her direction briefly when she was halfway down the corridor and winced, it hadn't been pleasant. Their eyes met for only an instant before he looked away. 

She stopped beside them and looked from one to the other briefly, neither looked back at her, Harry preferring to stare at the wall, Ron, at his own feet. Hermione shook her head, 'Just get this over with!' she said to herself. She drew herself up to her full height and said the password, "Liquorice Allsorts!" The gargoyle responded immediately, stepping aside to reveal the spiral staircase behind. Harry was already disappearing from sight before it had even fully retracted, Ron followed close on his heels, leaving Hermione to bring up the rear. She sighed again and followed.

She was halfway up the stairs when, 'You really don't have to put up with them you know.' Hermione stopped in her tracks. The thought had come from nowhere, and it didn't sound right. Realisation settled on her, it wasn't hers…the voice was back!

Panic slammed into her, she felt herself start to shake. "NO! NO! NO! It's not real!" she whispered to herself, screwing her eyes shut and balling her fists in concentration.

'Fine,' the voice answered, almost sarcastically, 'It's not real so just ignore it and it will go away…' The sound of it faded to nothing. Hermione waited with baited breath, but it didn't speak again. She opened her eyes and took a deep breath to steady her nerves before she climbed the last few steps and entered Dumbledore's office. She was all set to apologise to the Headmaster for her delay, but there was no need. Dumbledore wasn't in his office. The table had been prepared for their meeting as always, stacks of folders, which Hermione recognised as Ministerial files, littered the surface, but there was no sign of the Professor anywhere. Hermione frowned. Harry and Ron didn't seem to be puzzled by his absence. They were too busy rummaging through files, muttering and commenting about their contents.

"I've seen this before…this is about an attack in Leicester two months ago," Ron sounded annoyed.

"This one is even older," Harry replied in the same, deadpan tone he seemed to use perpetually these days.

"What is Dumbledore playing at?" Ron growled, "He is supposed to have information about Coventry." He suddenly turned on Hermione, "Isn't he?"

Hermione swallowed, Harry turned to her too, "Yes," she said, "At least, that was what the note said."

"And it definitely said eight o'clock?"

"Yes," she nodded. Ron pursed his lips and then sighed.

"Are we early?" Harry's question startled Hermione. He hadn't so much as said a word to her in a fortnight. She turned to answer him, but her heart sank suddenly when she realised that he had been speaking to Ron, not to her.

Ron tugged up his sleeve and looked at his watch, "No," he shook his head, "We're on time. He's late!"

Harry shrugged and sat down, pulling some of the pages from the table and starting to flick through them. After a moment, Ron sighed and did likewise.

"He must be on his way," Hermione said, wanting to be helpful.

The only response she got was a low grunt from Ron as he dumped the pages he had been reading and selected some more. She wanted to scream at them, tear into them for daring to treat her this way. Thoughts of roaring nasty words and hurtful insults at them bubbled through her mind. Hermione was somewhat startled by the fact that there seemed to be precious little stopping her. The words rose in her throat as her fists balled in anger. Through nothing short of a sheer act of willpower, she kept silent and turned away.

Hermione spun, searching for something to occupy her mind and distract her sudden temper until Dumbledore arrived. She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths and walked away, putting some distance between herself and their mutterings. She took a moment to focus on her surroundings, anything to stop her mind racing. The walls of the Headmaster's office were covered with portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters, an extremely heady group of wizards. Though, by the time their portraits had been painted, many of them had been well on in years and, according to Dumbledore at least, more than a little senile. Hermione noted as she looked around that most of the portraits were empty at the moment, their occupants having stepped out for the evening, she mused quietly. The life of a portrait must be a strange one, staring out from a canvas all day, moving from room to room, sometimes building to building in a single step, never aging, never growing.

Her thoughts derailed when she noticed the map; that was a new feature. A large sheet of parchment bearing a hand drawn map of England was tacked to an easel that was standing in the corner. She frowned as she moved over to it. Dozens of tiny red pins had been jabbed, seemingly at random, into the map, marking locations all over the country. It wasn't until she noticed the glaring red circle surrounding Coventry that Hermione realised what she was looking at. Each of those dots must be there to mark a Death Eater attack. Her eyes scanned the map again, there were so many, she hadn't realised. Dozens of them, everywhere, no part of the country had been spared, it seemed, nowhere was safe. Seeing at all laid out like this was…

'Incredible, isn't it?' the voice said quietly. 'So much death, so much pain: all to slake one man's thirst for power?' Hermione's eyes slid closed as she willed herself to ignore it and remain calm.

'The map,' she thought furiously, 'Focus on the map, focus on reality!' Hermione stared at the map, searching for a pattern amid the field of dots. She wasn't going to find one she knew, but it was something to occupy her mind. The voice remained silent, but she could hear…or rather feel it shifting about, just on the edge of her mind. 'No, stop it, you are not going crazy!'

'Of course you're not, if anything it's me that's crazy.' At that the words faded into quiet laughter. Hermione fought the sudden wave of terrified nausea down and turned around as the door opened. She was at first glad at the distraction, but it didn't last. Her head started to growl quietly a moment before she saw Etean walk in.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the question exploded out of Ron as he leapt to his feet, followed closely by Harry.

Etean stopped, "Perfect!" he said, as though to himself.

Ron took a step toward him, "I said, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Etean responded, "But I prefer to mind my own business."

"Well," Harry cut off Ron's response, "whatever your _business_ is, Etean, it will have to wait," he gestured around the room, "This is a private meeting."

Etean looked around, pausing slightly when he saw Hermione. The growl rose in volume slightly. "Is that right?" Etean asked sarcastically, moving his gaze back to Harry, "A curious choice of venue if you want my opinion."

"We don't," snarled Ron, "So you can just get lost."

Etean shook his head, "Believe me, Weasley, there are very few things that I would rather do, however I don't appear to have a choice."

"No choice? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ron stepped forward again.

"Why are you here?" Hermione said, not even aware of deciding to ask the question.

Etean stopped short and turned to her. The growl became a momentary snarl as a flash of emotion shot behind his stare. He opened his mouth to respond when another voice cut him off.

"He's here because I asked him to be here." Everyone spun round to face Professor Dumbledore, who had appeared as though from nowhere behind them in the corner. "I apologise for my tardiness," he said brightly, "I'm afraid I was delayed elsewhere."

The Headmaster beamed at them for a moment, and then casually strolled over to the table to take his seat. "Professor, what…" Harry started, already pointing a finger at Etean.

Dumbledore waved him off, "All will be clear soon, Harry," he said soothingly. "Please, everyone, have a seat."

Harry scowled and sat down, Ron returned to the table, glaring at Etean. He remained standing for a moment before Harry reached up and tugged on his robes. Hermione crossed to the table and sat down opposite Dumbledore, leaving a clear gap between herself and Ron. Etean passed behind her to sit down opposite Harry.

Dumbledore turned to Etean as he sat down, "Since you are here, I take it that Professor Snape delivered my note?"

Hermione started slightly, Etean got a note too? Why had Professor Dumbledore brought him here?

Etean nodded to the Professor, "He did."

"And, do you have any questions before we begin?"

"No, not really."

"You understand the nature of this meeting?"

Etean paused, "The nature yes, the purpose…no, but I expect I will shortly."

"Indeed, I'm sure that you would have, however I feel that I should proffer a brief explanation. No doubt you are all curious?"

None of the Gryffindors responded as Professor Dumbledore looked around. 'What does he mean?' Hermione thought, 'Why would we be curious?'

'Oh for pity's sake,' the voice answered harshly, 'He wants you to play along.'

'Play along with what?' The Professor continued to look at them expectantly.

'Oh just nod will you?' the voice ordered. Hermione found herself obeying. 'Good girl,' it praised her, 'wake me up when you've caught on, will you?' and it fell silent.

Hermione was really confused now, her brow creased, 'Caught onto what?' she asked, not sure if she really wanted an answer.

The Headmaster was apparently satisfied with her nod, indeed he was already talking, "….aware of the persistence of hearsay, more commonly called gossip, in Hogwarts?"

Gossip? Hermione winced at the mere sound of the word, she certainly knew more than enough about it. Harry and Ron didn't respond, Etean nodded, "Yes."

"Well then, given that there is no satisfactory way to prevent the spread of gossip and rumours, and given the somewhat…unpleasant and potentially volatile nature of current events, those rumours could be a detriment to school moral. Therefore I felt it was necessary for me to inject at least a modicum of truth into the mix. So here we are." The Headmaster smiled slightly, "Obviously, to hold such briefings as this with the entire student population would almost certainly prove to be more harm than benefit, so I decided that the best way to approach this would be to quietly inform certain select groups of students, whom I deem to possess what can be called a level head, of the plain facts. It is my hope that they will then be in a position to disseminate some of that truth to their class and house mates." He turned his attention to the rest of the students, "I have chosen to keep the individual meetings small so as to facilitate ease of communication. I want to make it clear to you all that, despite this being essentially a briefing session, you are free to make any comments or voice any questions that occur to you."

There was a brief pause as the Professor appeared to be awaiting questions. Hermione looked about her. Etean was frowning slightly, though it seemed to be a false gesture put on for the show of it. Harry and Ron were looking at one another with confused expressions on their faces. Hermione fought to keep her face blank. She was beginning to comprehend the Headmaster's intent. He apparently wanted the three Gryffindors to play along and pretend as though this was the first meeting of this kind that they had attended.

'Well done!' said the voice sarcastically, 'you didn't even use your fingers and toes for that one.'

Hermione forced herself to ignore the sounds inside her head. She focussed instead on watching events outside her head. The little ruse that Professor Dumbledore was employing seemed to be working for the moment. At least, neither Harry nor Ron had said anything to give them away. Hermione found herself wondering if that was mere luck. She hoped not, Professor Dumbledore had gone to a lot of trouble to provide a completely sensible explanation for their meeting while totally avoiding the truth. It would be a shame for one of those two to ruin it. Still, that the Headmaster was choosing such a lie for Etean's benefit was confusing. Everyone else at the table knew the truth, so why was Professor Dumbledore going to the trouble?

Dumbledore cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Now then…to business. I realise that you all have many questions," he glanced at Harry quickly, "But, I'm afraid that I will not have time this evening to answer them all. These," he gestured to the tabletop, now littered with scattered files and photographs, "are for your benefit," he addressed them all, "Visual aids if you will accept the term. No doubt you have all read the papers and are familiar with what has been publicly released. These, however, represent a clearer, less subjective picture of events." Etean reached out and selected a couple of pages from the nearest pile and scanned over them. Hoping to reinforce the message for Ron and Harry, Hermione did likewise. "Begging your indulgence," Professor Dumbledore continued, "I will attempt to summarise as quickly as I can." Harry and Ron looked at one another, then back to the Headmaster as he started to recount the major events of the war to date. Hermione tried to feign attention, but found herself unable to do anything but stare at Etean as the Headmaster spoke. The growl remained constant, though it gradually faded into the background of her mind, leaving her distinctly curious. What was it about him that affected her so? Her eyes remained on him, searching for answers to questions she hadn't even asked.

Lacking a clear line of investigation, she decided to simply catalogue details. The first thing that she noticed was how calm he was. He sat there listening to Professor Dumbledore list off attack after attack, murder after murder, and never seemed to react in the least. He didn't even twitch when he heard Voldemort's name, something precious few wizards were capable of. The only movements he made were to occasionally reach out to take up other sheets from the table, or to shuffle through a file casually.

'How can he be so calm?' she asked herself as yet another string of bloody killings passed him by without triggering a reaction. 'How can anyone listen to all of this without reacting?'

'He is reacting,' the voice whispered in her ear, making her jump in surprise, 'he's just hiding it, that's all.' The voice sounded impressed, 'It's really amazing how good he is at it. Look at him, his face is a mask, a shield for his true thoughts.'

Hermione wrung her fingers under the table and pushed the voice aside. The Headmaster had finally finished his recant of previous events and was approaching, for everyone except Etean at least, the reason for tonight's meeting. "…Prior to this we had no clear knowledge of the movements of the Chalos clan since their disappearance from their homeland in Austria. Voldemort was able to mask the giants' presence in this country completely right up to the moment that they appeared in Coventry and started levelling buildings." The Professor paused and took a slow breath.

They had reached the primary topic for the meeting. Their pretence of attention vanished as everyone switched back on and sat forward. "Do you know anything more about the attack, Professor?" Harry asked. Hermione could hear real emotion in his voice for once.

Professor Dumbledore nodded, "Unfortunately yes," he sighed, "As you are no doubt aware, giants and trolls made up the bulk of the attacking force, and they are not known for their subtlety. It seems that Voldemort was indeed employing them in a purely diversionary manner. The sad truth of the matter is that he quite literally unleashed them, letting them carry out the attack as violently and as brutally as they desired." A pause. "The published casualty estimates have been revised…upward once more. We have now confirmed the deaths of over two hundred witches and wizards, while dozens more remain unaccounted for…it is easier to quantify the muggle casualties in the thousands." Hermione let out a not so well concealed gasp, drawing the Headmaster's attention to her. He nodded, "I understand your feelings, Miss Granger, despite the differences between wizards and muggles, they are still human, and this tragedy has hurt them as much as it has us. The only difference being that they never knew what hit them," his voice was very quiet when he finished.

"What have they been told?" Harry asked, "The muggles," he added to clarify on the Professor's look.

"An announcement was made via their public news service indicating that a store of dangerous chemicals was accidentally released, causing vivid and frightening hallucinations for all those exposed. The reports indicated that these hallucinations caused mass panic and, finally, a full scale riot to break out."

"And they believed this?" Harry sounded dubious.

Dumbledore nodded, "It seems so, at least thus far. For now, the muggles shouldn't be a problem. A secured perimeter surrounding an area twenty miles in diameter, centred on the city, has been established and is being enforced by the muggle army…backed by Ministry personnel. It is the official policy of the Ministry that travel into or out of Coventry, wizard and muggle, be prohibited until further notice."

Hermione found herself looking back over her shoulder at the map with the glaring red circle around Coventry. A no go zone? Voldemort's territory!

She turned back as Harry leaned forward, "And unofficially?"

Dumbledore took another deep breath, "Several clandestine probes within the cordoned area have been carried out, and the picture is grave indeed. It seems that all those, wizard and muggle alike, who were not lucky enough to be able to escape, or unfortunate enough to have been killed, have been rounded up and herded into what we are generously calling internment camps, in truth no better than crude hovels. The prisoners are held in appalling conditions, guarded, and preyed upon by dementors, vampires, hags and ghouls amongst," a brief pause, "a host of other foul creatures that appear to have rallied with surprising speed to Voldemort's side."

The Headmaster sounded angrier than Hermione had ever heard him, but she could tell that it was mostly frustration that she was hearing in his voice.

"Has there been any sighting of Voldemort?" The air rang with the sound of Harry's words. Hermione's eyes moved rapidly from Professor Dumbledore to Harry, and then, strangely enough, to Etean. He was looking at Harry now, his face still bearing no expression whatsoever. After a moment, his eyes moved to look at her. The growl shot to the foreground in her mind in an instant. His face didn't change, not in any way that she could see, but his look stunned her.

'He knew you were watching him, and he didn't like it. He's looking through you, not at you, trying to scare you off,' the voice whispered. Hermione suddenly found herself agreeing with it despite herself. 'Are you going to let him win?' The question didn't trigger an answer. In a moment it was over, Etean's gaze returned to the Headmaster as he answered Harry's question.

"The answer to that is, no, Harry, but that should not come as a major surprise. Our agents were not searching for him but were rather tasked with general information gathering. We are satisfied that Voldemort is indeed holed up in Coventry, if for no other reason than it simply makes sense for him to be there."

"Did your agents learn anything of value?"

Professor Dumbledore took a moment to answer, "They managed to gather a general layout of how Voldemort has distributed his forces."

"And?" Ron prompted.

"And, he has dug himself in rather well it would appear. The camps are guarded night and day by a legion of dementors. Trolls and giants patrol the streets 'amusing' themselves as they see fit. The other creatures are dispersed throughout what's left of the city, each living according to their own preference. The Death Eaters are apparently confining themselves to the Ministry compound, for what reason," he shook his head, "we have no way of knowing." Etean nodded at this.

BAM

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin as Ron slammed his fist down on the table. "It doesn't make sense," he roared.

Dumbledore didn't seem phased by this, "What doesn't make sense?" he asked calmly.

"None of it," Ron stopped and took a moment to regain some level of composure. "You told us that the biggest advantage that the Death Eaters had was their mobility. The Aurors didn't know where they were from one moment to the next, right?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded.

"Well then why are they doing this? Why attack Coventry? It isn't critical to us…not in the way that London is. So why try to hold the city when it means giving up their biggest advantage?" He shook his head, "I can't see any justification for it, none."

"They have managed to acquire a base of operations, Ronald," Dumbledore spoke with an air that suggested that he was humouring Ron, but Hermione doubted if Ron would notice, "The Ministry building that they commandeered is a fortress, a safe haven for them. There is that to consider."

Ron shook his head, "But we know where it is though, we've got them boxed in now. The Auror facility might be an asset, but it isn't valuable enough to justify the cost of taking it, or holding it."

"The battle cost us more than it did them, Ron," Harry said, "What is the count now, seventeen Aurors dead?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded. Ron did to, but he wasn't giving up his argument, "Yeah, ok, it hurt us, but nowhere near as much as it would have in, say, a month or so when it was fully staffed and integrated into the Ministry's administrative hierarchy. Hitting it then would have all but paralysed us."

"Maybe," Harry nodded, "but you're assuming that they could have taken it then. Fully staffed and equipped, it would have been twice as hard, twice as costly for Voldemort."

Professor Dumbledore weighed in, "It is also extremely likely that, had Voldemort waited, then the battle for Coventry could well have been un-winnable, perhaps that was his motivation…to destroy what could have turned into the linchpin of our efforts to thwart him."

"No," Etean's voice seemed to slice the conversation in half, "That isn't it. Voldemort didn't take the city to keep you from fortifying it. If anything, leaving the facility alone would have hurt you more in the long run."

At that, Harry scowled, "What do you mean?"

"Well," Etean said calmly, "it occurs to me that there is another, somewhat more believable explanation."

"Which is?" Ron hissed, clearly not going to believe a word of the answer.

Etean didn't answer him, instead he turned to the Professor, "When fully operational, how many Aurors would have been needed to staff that complex?"

"The nominal staff would have been twenty-five strong, allowing for those on assignments in or around the midlands region," he answered with a contemplative look on his face.

"Twenty-five," Etean nodded, "That means you would have twenty-five men guarding a fortress that serves no purpose except to _be_ a fortress. But in reality, what good would it have been to you?"

"It was a base of operations," Ron snapped angrily, "a place for our side to regroup, to plan their strategy, to co-ordinate…"

"It was an icon," Etean cut him off in a derisory manner, "A public symbol of strength that you don't really possess, a lie for the benefit of the masses. But, however large and important a symbol it would have been, it would still have meant taking twenty-five men away from your already strained pool of resources. Sure, taking the facility meant that you lost people, but it was a once off loss, not a long term drain as it would have been."

"That," Harry said slowly, thinking as he spoke, "doesn't make sense. You're making it sound like Voldemort did us a favour?"

"In some ways he did, but in many more ways he didn't."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Ron asked harshly.

"It means," Etean said quietly, waving a file folder vaguely in the air, "That Voldemort's motives, the explanations for his actions are all perfectly clear, should one take the time to actually look at the facts of course."

Ron scoffed, Harry frowned. Neither was happy, but before either could speak, Professor Dumbledore beat them to it. "Do you have a theory to postulate, Mr Etean?"

"No theory, Professor, just a statement of the blatantly obvious. The answer is right in front of you, practically dancing before your eyes. You just don't seem to have seen it," he paused slightly, "You'll pardon the implication, Professor. I in no way meant to insult you."

'Oh yes he did, and he knows that Dumbledore knows too,' an internal giggle from the voice rang in Hermione's ears, 'His words are a double edged sword, saying everything and nothing at the same time, it's almost poetry.'

Hermione was surprised to find herself smiling slightly. Etean had, with a string of no more than half a dozen sentences, completely taken over the conversation. She got the impression that he was completely aware of how he was now leading them along by the nose and was perfectly happy about it.

"You will need to try a lot harder if you desire to insult me, Mr Etean," Professor Dumbledore smiled, "I have a very thick skin. So, by all means, point out the blatantly obvious facts that I have missed," he made an open handed gesture to the table.

Etean nodded, "Ok then."

"This should be good," Ron mumbled sarcastically. Hermione didn't agree with the sentiment, but she found that she did agree with the words.

Etean ignored Ron's comment, "As I said," he said, shuffling the pages in his hand. "The reason for Voldemort's decision to attack Coventry is right here," he tossed a photograph down onto the centre of the table, then a second one beside it, "as it were, quite literally staring at you."

Hermione craned forward along with everyone else to see the pictures. Both at first glance appeared to be the same. They both showed the same man, she recognised him as Kingsley Shaklebolt, standing, pointing at a broken body on the ground.

"Incident photographs," Ron said, looking up at Etean, "So? They take these at any crime scene. There are dozens just like these here, what makes these special?"

"Look at them," Etean said, "Do you see any similarities?"

"Yes," Ron spat at him, "They are both pictures of the same man," his tone suggested that he was again making fun of Etean.

Etean nodded, "Do you know him?"

"Yes I know him, so what?"

"And you recognise him? In both images?"

Ron growled under his breath, "Of course I do, like I said I know him. Do you even have a point to make?"

"I do, and it is this," he leaned forward and touched the first image, "This man is an Auror, I don't know anything about him other than that. From this photograph, I can determine that he is a proud man, an honourable man that has most likely served with distinction for many years. Here he is," Etean turned the picture, and a faint smile touched his lips, "doing his job, documenting the fate of this poor individual, but," he looked up, "he's not _just_ doing that. He isn't posing for a picture because it's his job, he's there because he wants to be. He wants to be seen there, to be a part of this horrible scene because that means he'll be a part of the rest too, the chase, the struggle and the fight to bring those responsible to justice. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he were to keep this picture and look at it daily, as a reminder of what he's fighting, and what he's fighting for. He's living for that struggle, its consuming him." Etean paused as his fingers moved on to the second picture, "This isn't the same man."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, "Of course it is."

"Is it?" Etean smiled, "Look closely and then tell me."

Harry didn't look, "It is the same man," he turned to the Headmaster, "Professor, this is nonsense."

The Professor raised a hand, "Perhaps, Mr Etean, if you were to explain what it is your saying."

Etean picked up the picture and looked at it, "When I look at this image, I see a man doing his job and nothing more. He's there because he has to be. He's had to do this awful thing so often that it no longer touches him as it used to. The passion, the fire…the lust for revenge, for justice, is gone. He's drifting, and not in the right direction…not living for the struggle anymore, merely hoping to survive it."

Apparently finished, Etean dropped the picture. Curiosity got the better of Hermione, she leaned forward and snatched it up from under Ron's nose. Turning it around in her hand, Hermione looked, trying to see what Etean apparently saw. Kingsley was there, standing over an elderly wizard's body. The image was simple, an Auror officially recording that he had witnessed the scene. She looked at his face, and his eyes, and she saw it. He was tired, weary even, unshaven and dishevelled. He had the look of a man who would gladly give or do anything not to have to be standing where he was standing. The moving image shuddered and blinked slowly, enforcing the image in her mind. It was as though he was screaming at her, "Get me out of here!"

Hermione dropped the photo, Harry grabbed it and stared hard. Finally he looked up, "You see an awful lot in this one picture, Etean," he said, "but none of it explains why Voldemort hit Coventry so hard, or why he gave up his mobility, his single biggest weapon to do so."

Etean laughed, "His biggest weapon?" he shook his head, "He's given up no such thing."

"But he's tied down, he's committed to holding the city now. And he's burdened with the very drain on his resources that you claim he spared us."

"And he's surrounded, by an army no less," Ron added his voice to the anti-Etean party, "He isn't free to come and go as he pleases anymore."

Etean leaned forward again, "And when did he do that? Voldemort doesn't need to come and go anywhere, nor has he ever. He gives orders, issues commands from afar, and they are obeyed. All that holding Coventry changed for him was his location, the mission, and the orders remain the same. That is, there's nothing here to suggest otherwise," he smiled, "Unless I've missed something."

"You have," Ron barked at him, "The attacks have stopped. There hasn't been so much as a sighting of a single Death Eater in a fortnight…I'd call that a change wouldn't you?"

Etean paused, "The attacks have stopped have they?" he asked.

"Yes," Ron sounded really frustrated now.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Why have they stopped?"

Ron rolled his eyes to heaven, "That's what we've been talking about you idiot."

The insult flew wide, Etean didn't rise to it, "No," he said calmly, "We have been discussing his overall strategy. This is more specific, why has he stopped his barrage of attacks?"

"Because he's too busy holding Coventry, that's why."

"And why is he doing that?"

Ron stood up, "For fuck's sake, enough with the questions already."

Etean smiled, "If you don't know the answer, just say so."

Ron scoffed and turned away. Hermione looked from him to Etean. As she saw him smirk at Ron, the answer to his question floated into her mind from out of nowhere.

"Because he wants to," she said, causing an immediate deafening silence.

Harry turned to her, "What did you say?"

With every eye on her, Hermione suddenly became nervous, "Erm," she stammered slightly, "Well, I…I just said that, the reason Volde….Voldemort," she spat it out, fighting to suppress the shudder, "is holding Coventry is because he wants to." She felt the need to explain herself further, "The…the only explanation that makes sense is that it fits his goals somehow…though I don't know how," she added quickly to intercede any further questions.

Harry frowned, Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly at her, Etean simply stared at her for a count of five before he too, nodded curtly. "Yes, he attacked Coventry because he chose to, not because he had to…that's the important thing to note. Nobody forced his hand, nobody threatened him and drove him to it in some act of desperation. He decided to change his tactics and he did it. He decided that he wanted Coventry, and now he has it, and nobody was able to stop him, the Aurors, least of all."

"They were caught off guard and outnumbered," Ron spat.

"Granted," Etean answered plainly, "but that's hardly relevant, the message was sent all the same. Voldemort can do what he pleases, and there isn't a damned thing anyone can about it," he jabbed a finger at Ron, "You said earlier that Coventry wasn't critical, and I suppose that was true in some ways, but it was also wrong. Outside of London, Coventry is, or rather was, the largest wizarding community in England, true or false?"

"True…but what of it?"

"Right, so it was the second biggest target he could have chosen," Etean washed over Ron's question, "and he smashed it…took it with, relatively, little difficulty."

Ron scoffed, "Hardly."

"Is that so? I read the papers, and that's the impression I got. What I've seen here," he gestured to the table, "seems only to have proved me right. But right or wrong, it didn't matter, I knew I couldn't be that far off, and if I could read between the lines, you had better be sure that other people could too." Etean pointed his hand toward the window, "Right now, all over this country, those people are sitting at home, scared and alone. They are all asking themselves the same questions – 'He took Coventry, could he take London? If he can do it once, what's stopping him doing it again? Could he really win this war?'"

"Never!" Harry and Ron answered in unison. A sinking feeling in Hermione's stomach made her uneasy, she wasn't nearly as sure of that right now as they were.

Nor was Etean, "Really?" he asked incredulously, "Are you certain of that? Who's going to stop him?" Harry was about to answer when Etean reached out and grabbed the photograph of Kingsley again and held it up before Harry's eyes, "Him?" he asked. Etean dropped the picture and sighed, "This war, Harry, isn't about cities or castles…it's not even about battles when you get down to it…it's about people, and its about fear. Voldemort is a master of fear and always has been; that is his greatest weapon, Harry, nothing more and nothing less. Right now this country is full of fear. From north to south, east to west, in their kitchens, bedrooms or sitting rooms, a lot of scared people are huddled in the dark, afraid of tomorrow. And they have reason to be scared. The Aurors were their only line of defence in this war," he touched the photograph again, "Now what have they got?"

Ron's jaw set, "The Aurors aren't beaten yet! We aren't beaten yet." he said defiantly.

"Indeed we are not," Dumbledore said in a loud, clear voice. Hermione had almost forgotten that he was there. "This war is far from lost!" There was an inspiring note to his voice that lifted Hermione's heart. The Headmaster turned to Etean, "I thank you for your insights Mr Etean, and yours Ronald, Harry, Hermione."

Professor Dumbledore drew his hands together and nodded, "Now then, I'm afraid that will have to suffice for this evening. I trust that you all have a somewhat clearer view on the realities of events outside Hogwarts than you did an hour ago."

Hermione sighed internally. That was it, the meeting was over. As she stood up, she got the immediate impression that Harry and Ron were by no means happy about this.

"But…" Harry started to object until a sideways glance from the Professor silenced him.

"I told you that my time was short, Harry. I am sorry if I have not fully answered your questions. It is my hope that we will be able to meet again soon."

"When?" Ron asked, still not standing up.

"As soon as can be arranged, Ronald. Rest assured that you will be informed."

Ron scowled and stood up, Harry dawdled a moment longer before standing. Hermione watched Etean casually stroll past her before she turned to follow him out. He was halfway to the door when…

"Mr Etean," Professor Dumbledore called out.

Etean turned, "Sir?"

Hermione turned to see Harry and Ron also looking at the Professor. "I require a moment more of your time, if you would." He turned to Harry and Ron and nodded to them, telling them to leave. Begrudgingly they obeyed. Hermione took a moment to remember that she too was supposed to leave. She trailed out of the office in Harry's wake, in no hurry to keep up with him.

"What the hell was all that about?" she heard him ask Ron angrily.

'That is a good question!' The voice answered, drowning out Ron's response.

Hermione stopped, ahead of her, Ron and Harry continued on, not noticing or not caring that she wasn't following. As their footsteps died away into silence, the sound of blood rushing through her ears nearly deafened Hermione. But it was still preferable to,

'Look, you may as well face it, I am not going to just go away,' the voice was more soothing now, but it was still a disembodied voice in her head, a clear sign that she was going mad. Hermione paced for a moment, and then sat against the wall, the voice was starting to really scare her. Why wouldn't it just go away? 'Please,' she pleaded with her own head, 'Please just leave me alone.'

* * *

Etean returned to the end of the table, standing opposite Dumbledore as the door closed behind them. The Professor fixed him with a quizzical stare. 

"I must admit," he began plainly, "that I am somewhat impressed."

"Sir?"

"Your grasp of the details presented to you this evening, and your ability to see the big picture, as it were, are commendable."

"Thank you, Professor," Etean nodded slightly.

"Would it surprise you to learn that your opinion is rather identical to that which currently prevails at the Ministry?"

'No, of course it wouldn't. You aren't all incompetent fools.'

"It does Professor?"

Dumbledore nodded, "In many ways, yes, though they may not have stated it in quite the same terms."

Etean allowed a smile to twist his lip, "I prefer not to mince words for the sake of it."

Dumbledore returned his smile, "Indeed, your words this evening put me in mind of your father."

Etean blinked, 'My father would never have been so direct.' "You knew my father, Professor?"

"Alas, I can't say that I did. I did meet him on several occasions, a good man."

Etean nodded again, but chose not to say anything. The Professor cleared his throat, "Now then, I have much still to do this evening, so allow me to be as forthright and direct as you have been. Our situation is grim; far more so than even this meeting would lead you to believe. Our numbers have been drastically reduced far more rapidly than we were prepared for even in our worst case estimates."

"Is it that bad, Professor?" Etean asked, though he knew the answer.

"Sadly, yes. But more critical to our current situation is the issue of moral…as you so correctly pointed out. There is an aura of despair settling over the hearts of our troops…for lack of a better word to refer to them. It is as yet, unspoken, though if things continue as they are currently…" He trailed off, Etean watched his mind race. "We need a victory," the Professor said quietly, "a real victory, not just a lack of defeat, we need something to hold onto, something to fight towards."

'A victory? A goal to achieve?' "Are you planning to retake Coventry?" Etean asked quietly.

Professor Dumbledore looked at him with startlingly pure honesty in his eyes, "As it stands…no. The sad truth is that we cannot. As it stands, any attempt to assault the city would be suicide. The best we can do is harass them, try to pick them off in ones and twos…skirmishes, decisive…if small victories," he sighed, "It isn't much, but it will be something."

'Damage control,' Etean nodded, 'They are going to try to establish a holding pattern to prevent things from getting any worse.'

It made sense. Etean slid silently into his role in this conversation, "That doesn't sound very long term, Professor."

"No," Dumbledore sighed, "it isn't, but for now it is all we have. To achieve more we need more, more men, more time, and more of an insight into the goals of our enemy. In short we need allies if we are to survive," a pause, "Which brings us rather neatly to the main reason for tonight's meeting. And why I invited you, Mr Etean."

"Yes?" Etean asked quietly.

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore began, "that I must break a promise that I made you on the day we met."

Etean nodded 'Here we go.'

"Is that so? What, specifically, do you mean?"

"When you first came to this school," said Dumbledore, "We agreed that, if you were to function in this school, your title could not play a part. You would receive or expect no preferential treatment whatsoever, be subject to the same rules and responsibilities as any other student without exception. That was an agreement between us that I intended to adhere to. However I must, unfortunately, now set it aside. I need a favour from you…a favour that only Lord Etean can provide."

'I hate being right all the time,' Etean thought to himself, though he knew it was a lie. He chose to sit at that point; Lord Etean wouldn't stand at Dumbledore's bidding. He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and covered his mouth with his hand, "Go on," he said through his fingers.

"It has been the position of the Minister for some time now that our forces, even at their strongest, were insufficient to the task we faced. Since the outbreak of hostilities, he has been working to establish a dialogue with the major powers in Europe in the hope of securing their assistance in defeating our common enemy, thus far, with little success. Aside from a few, initial, quietly encouraging whispers, all further attempts at opening a dialogue to broker our needs have apparently fallen on deaf ears."

"You are being stonewalled?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Once again, simply put, and clinically accurate. All our messages and envoys are met with blank platitudes, vague placations that the situation is being considered in detail." The Professor shook his head, "The Minister has finally despaired of the official channels, and has asked me to try any alternate means at my disposal."

'Like me!' Etean smiled, "Alternate means?"

"Yes, as you are no doubt aware, there are more ways to open negotiations than the official channels." He smiled briefly, "I have been endeavouring to explore these, calling on old friends, asking for the return of old favours. I have made progress, though not as much as I had hoped. It seems that, to many people in positions of influence within the halls of our European neighbours' governing bodies, England has become a dirty topic."

Etean said nothing. Dumbledore had brought him here to ask for a favour, and he would have to ask for it straight out.

"So," his smile faded, "you see my problem. Nobody will speak with me."

"Apparently," Etean answered flatly, "The question now becomes: What can I do to help you?"

Professor Dumbledore sat back, "Do you know the name Renée Valjean?"

Etean frowned, 'Interesting choice, Professor.' "Counsellor Valjean? He is the Director of Le Département de la Sécurité Externe, The Bureau of External Security in France. What about him?"

"We worked together several years ago during the last session of the International Wizarding Confederation, adjusting the wording of several of the more controversial new bylaws to make them more palatable to the delegates. We have maintained a passing correspondence over the years, until recently that is. I have been attempting to contact him for a couple of weeks now…"

"And he hasn't answered you?"

"No," Dumbledore answered, "Rather he _cannot_ answer me because I cannot contact him."

"I don't follow you, Professor. I wouldn't have thought that Renée Valjean is a particularly hard man to find."

"Nor would I, but that seems to be the case. Whenever I contact his office, I am politely informed that he's on holiday, though it occurs to me that this is a remarkably unusual time for France's Chief of the Foreign Security to take a holiday, don't you?"

Etean nodded, "It does raise a few warning flags, yes."

"More than a few," Dumbledore sighed, "But, as it stands I have little choice but to accept the explanation given, and his assistant's assurances that she will pass on my messages as soon as possible."

"But if his secretary is the only thing blocking you," Etean said, "can't you just write to him directly? It shouldn't matter where he is, I've never heard of any holiday location that a good owl can't find."

Dumbledore smiled, "Well it seems that Renée has indeed found one. I have sent four owls to him over the last fortnight, all returned undelivered."

'Damn, they really are throwing the wall up high aren't they?'

"Curious…I wonder where he could be…"

"As do I. Unfortunately, as I lack any official authority in France, or in England for that matter, it would appear as though my hands are tied. But," he paused, "I believe that there is a way that you could find out,"

Etean wanted to smile, but he forced himself not to twitch, "What can I do Professor? I have no more authority in the Adjutaire than you do."

Dumbledore smiled, "Is that so? I think you underestimate the importance of your position. I was under the impression that the name of Lord Etean carries a great deal of authority inside the Adjutaire," his smile broadened slightly, "If Lord Etean speaks, people listen."

"That may be true in theory, Professor," said Etean, "but the simple fact is that it is never that simple. I may have my father's name, but I am not my father. To many in the Adjutaire, I am noting more than a spoiled kid struggling to fit into his great father's shoes. I can guarantee you that if you, Albus Dumbledore, cannot get an answer from them, then I will not be able to either. It would be a fool's errand for me to try."

Professor Dumbledore nodded, "Perhaps, however, I came across a curious fact just the other day, one that I had in fact forgotten entirely," he paused and lowered his fingers, "As I understand it, the Adjutaire has a rather illustrious reputation for being the most secure wizarding structure in Europe. Wars, both wizard and muggle, have been fought around it, yet the building itself has never been touched."

Etean bowed his head graciously, the games of etiquette had been drilled into him often enough, complimenting France was complimenting Lord Etean, "That's what they say, Professor."

"Yes, but the interesting fact that I learned is that the vaunted and oft lauded strength of the Adjutaire is built, not on the strength of the highly capable French Auror Directorate, but rather, comes from a _private_ security force, known as the Etyar. Even more curious is the fact that this force that has guarded the Adjutaire for centuries without a flaw, and that guards the personal safety of the Committee members to this day, reports not to the Administrative Committee that they guard, or even to the French Auror Directorate, but directly to you, Lord Etean, is that correct?"

Etean shrugged, "On paper yes," he added a touch of contemplation to his voice, "the Etyar answer to me, but in practical terms, the main influence I have over the garrison stationed at the Adjutaire is financial."

Professor Dumbledore smiled, "That may be, but perhaps it will be enough influence to suffice."

'Clever!' "I'm afraid I still do not understand Professor."

"If the Etyar are guarding the Committee, then it stands to reason they are guarding Renée. Therefore, it follows that they would know where he is, and how he might be contacted, don't you agree?"

"That is a reasonable conclusion," he paused, then smiled, "I see, you want _me_ to contact the Etyar and ask where Counsellor Valjean is,"

The Professor nodded, "Correct," Etean nodded then paused, Dumbledore saw his contemplation and frowned, "Is there a problem?"

Etean cocked his head to one side, "Maybe," he moved around slightly, giving himself time to think the situation through, "You see Professor, I won't pretend to know all the workings of the Adjutaire. I doubt that anyone really does. But I have spent enough time there over the years to know that information is about the most valuable commodity that exits inside those walls. As such, it is never passed about lightly and, in a lot of cases, hardly at all. The individual departments covet their secrets closely, and the Department of External Security is perhaps the most secretive of the lot, as you have discovered,"

Dumbledore frowned, "I have?"

"Yes. In your efforts to contact Renée, no doubt you have had to deal with his assistant, a lady named Michelle DeRoche who is, if my memory serves, a thoroughly pleasant woman," he made no effort to hide the scorn in his voice, "But whatever her personal feelings, she would only have been following the orders she was given. Therefore all the delays, the half answers and the waffle you have received was carefully planned and designed."

"Ah."

Etean nodded, then continued, "The question is, why the information was kept from you?" he tilted his head to the side, "It may be that it's nothing more than the usual secrecy nonsense…but it could be something else."

Professor Dumbledore sat forward, his eyebrows raised in surprise, "Something else? Such as?"

Etean shrugged, "Who knows? Almost everyone that works in the Adjutaire is up to something most of the time. Most of it is official…some of it isn't," he shook his head to stall the question, "My point, Professor, is that if Counsellor Valjean's whereabouts are being kept quiet, then there is a reason for it. Now, it is highly probable that the Etyar captain on station knows where Counsellor Valjean is, and I am fairly certain that he will tell me if I ask him. He will also likely tell me what Counsellor Valjean is doing, or at least why his whereabouts is being kept quiet, and at that point I will have to make a decision. You see, while _I_ may have access to that information…"

"I may not," Dumbledore interrupted, "I see."

Etean nodded, "Yes, and if that is the case, then I will have to choose whether or not to break quite a few laws by divulging that information to you,"

"Something I would never ask you to do Mr. Etean,"

"No?"

"No, as I said, I am asking for a favour, I have no grounds to order you to do this. Nor would I ever ask anyone to betray their morality. But, if you will, perhaps there is a way to avoid such a complication."

"Yes?"

Dumbledore reached into his robes and drew out a sealed letter. "This is the message I have been trying to deliver to Renée. I don't see any legal or ethical reason why you could not simply arrange for it to be delivered to him personally."

Etean smiled, "And a message hand delivered on the order of Lord Etean would be…difficult for any French official to ignore."

"Indeed," Dumbledore offered Etean the letter, "Does this seem like something that you could arrange?"

"It is certainly possible, Professor," Etean nodded.

Dumbledore held the letter out to him, "I will not ask you not to read it, its contents will reflect on you after all."

"I feel I should be clear, Professor," Etean reached out and took the letter, "I will see to it that _he_ reads this, but I cannot guarantee anything more than that. Renée Valjean does not answer to me in any way other than what is considered socially polite."

Dumbledore smiled wide, "Understood perfectly, and it is more than acceptable. Thank you."

Etean pocketed the letter and stood to leave, "Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight," Etean was at the door when the Professor called him, "One more thing, Mr Etean."

"Yes?"

"I meant what I said when I told you this was a favour. I invite you to remember it, as I will endeavour repay it one day, should the need arise."

Etean nodded, "I understand perfectly, goodnight," he repeated and left.

He reached the outside of the office and stopped. So, Dumbledore wanted him to help him open negotiations? He shook his head, Renée Valjean? Of all people, why him? Dumbledore must really be getting desperate if he seriously thinks he'll be able to convince him to sign on for bringing France into the open war. Still it made sense, he was somewhat militantly minded as politicians went and granted, his personal history with Voldemort meant that there was a greater chance of getting his vote than any of the other Committee members. But still, if Poliakov was to be believed, and he was, then there was no way in hell that France would enter the war anytime soon. Anyone who voted to would be going against the majority vote, something that normally meant political suicide inside the Adjutaire. Whatever personal motivations Renée might have, and they were many it had to be said, he would never agree to risk France's security unless he was left with no choice.

Still, Dumbledore seemed determined to try, and being owed a favour by the Hogwarts Headmaster would certainly not be a bad thing, so Renée would get his letter, and he would read it. The odds of him replying were beyond miniscule but that wasn't Etean's problem.

Etean moved off. He didn't make it ten steps before he sensed that he wasn't alone. A sense of fear…trepidation…confusion… 'What?' His eyes narrowed as Granger appeared ahead of him. She seemed startled, as though he had caught her doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing.

'What is she still doing here?' he thought. "Something I can help you with?" he asked her.

"No…I…wh," she stammered slightly, "What did Professor Dumbledore keep you behind for?"

'Does she really think I'm going to answer that?' "I don't think that is any of your business, do you?" he all but spat the response at her before moving off.

Granger moved to block him, "I was just…curious," she said quietly.

Etean felt his jaw tighten, what did he care if she was curious? He turned to look at her, willing her to just go away, but it didn't seem to be happening. In the end, he decided to answer her, if only to shut her up, "He wanted my help with something."

That was it. That was all she was getting. Etean pushed past her and headed off.

"Why?"

Her question surprised him, 'What the hell?' He was about to hurl a nasty remark at her about the blatant stupidity of her question, but found that he really just wanted to end this conversation, "I am Lord Etean," he said over his shoulder, "Sooner or later, everyone wants my help."


	45. Logical Explorations

The single galleon hovered in the air. Snakelike tendrils of conscious thought emanated from Draco and coiled around it like fingers. Etean watched with careful interest as Draco's mind struggled to keep its hold on the coin. His hold was sloppy, more energy was being wasted into the air than was being used to maintain the contact, but Draco was learning. It was within his grasp; he would get there. It would only require practice, and hard work.

'Speaking of which…'

Without any outside change in appearance, Etean narrowed his mind and tugged at the Ether. The effect was immediate. The tendrils of Draco's mind evaporated and shattered. With nothing to support it, the coin fell to the floor with a clatter.

Draco sighed and rubbed his temples. "What was that? Ten seconds?"

"Eleven," Etean informed him. "A new record. At this rate, you'll have it dancing by morning."

Draco didn't look impressed. "You say that every night."

"Do I?" Etean raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes," Draco grumbled, "Yet somehow it never seems to happen, does it?"

"Patience," Etean soothed him, "If this was easy, don't you think everyone would be doing it?"

"Please," Draco rolled his eyes and rubbed at his temple again, "no more lectures, at least not tonight."

Etean reached out and sensed Draco's mind. The pain he saw there was severe, but well below the level that Draco could handle. "Fine," he extended himself and hoisted the coin into the air, "no lectures." Etean waited. Draco knew what he was expected to do. He took a moment to compose himself before settling his mind and reaching out again. Again, Etean watched carefully.

* * *

Hermione's eyes stung. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling of her four poster, praying for the night to end. She turned her head and reached out to pull back the curtain so she could see her clock. The dial glinted in the moonlight, ten past one. Hermione dropped the curtain and let her head roll back onto her pillow. It was still early, much earlier than she normally fell asleep at, but damn she was tired. Her whole body ached from exhaustion. She could think of no good reason for her to be in bed. There was no way she was going to sleep, but she honestly didn't think that she had the strength to get up. Her eyes burned with the effort of staying awake.

Her eyes closed. The stinging sensation faded. She felt a chill wash over her, the air was cold suddenly against her skin. 'No,' her eyes slammed open again. She couldn't fall asleep, she just couldn't. And yet, each time she blinked, each time she closed her eyes, it got harder to open them again. The darkness and the chill night air continued to close in on her. She struggled, shook herself, even ground her knuckles into her eyes, but in the end it was to no avail. Her will slackened; there was simply no way for her to remain awake any longer.

'This can't go on,' she told herself in a voice that sounded, even inside her head, to be half asleep, 'I can't keep this up forever. Dreams…they are only dreams. Nothing to worry about.'

Finally, her eyes slid closed.

She found herself almost at once on familiar ground. A gloomy room, lit from above through some unknown means. The room was bare, she was surrounded by bare stone walls and standing on a bare stone floor. She shivered with the cold, she wasn't well dressed, she was asleep after all. Her nightgown only reached down to her knees, leaving her shins and calves bare. Her feet were also bare, which added to her discomfort. She sighed, there was little else to do. She took a breath, instantly feeling a familiar stinging sensation in her chest. The air here was foul, it burned as she inhaled and froze as she exhaled. Breathing it for any period of time was agony. Was it any wonder that she always passed out? 'Stop it, Granger, this is a dream, you don't have to pass out if you don't want to.' There was a sound behind her. Hermione turned on her heel and found herself face to face with the wolf yet again. Logic! There had to be some point to these dreams. They made sense, they had to. She set her jaw and stared at the wolf. Lupie, it was the only name that the beast had ever had in her dreams, so that's what it was gong to be called.

The beast stared at her. It always did, always the same way. Every movement, every blink was always precisely the same. It looked at her and a longing stirred in her heart. It was going to lead her and she had to follow. The beast stood with the merest hint of a growl and moved off, disappearing through the room's single doorway. Hermione toyed with the idea of not following. What was the point? Following didn't achieve anything; the end result would be the same. The foul air would eventually get the better of her. She would collapse, pass out, wake up on the mountain top and be at the mercy of those infernal eyes. Still, she had nothing better to do.

Hermione moved to the doorway. She knew from past experience that Lupie would be waiting for her just round the corner, and sure enough she was right. Hermione took one step toward it and paused. 'Logic, Granger, you know what's up there.' She looked up. The corridor stretched out ahead of her. She could make out the gradual slope of the floor rising up, more or less indefinitely. 'Logic!' It led somewhere, it had to lead somewhere. She just had never been able to get far enough to find out where before collapsing. Feeling the helpless panic rising in her heart, Hermione struggled to be sensible about it. Logic didn't leave her any room for panic. She remembered the books, the few sensible books she had read on the subject of abnormal dreams. 'Dreams come from the subconscious,' she thought, 'this is my mind, so what the hell does it mean? What is it…what am I trying to tell myself?' She bit her lip. The question was simple to ask, but the answer was another matter.

Hermione shook her head. She was starting to get light headed. 'Focus! Details!' Coughing slightly as the air rasped in her throat, she reached out to touch the wall. It was, just as it appeared, bare, cold stone. Touching it helped her focus, at least a little. Lupie stood once more and turned to head up the corridor. Hermione didn't follow. Logic was, for the moment, still in charge. Logic told her that there seemed to be no point in chasing Lupie. The wolf moved too fast toward wherever it was headed, and standing still was hard enough in this place. Logic also told her that she should save herself the trouble, she was going to pass out any minute now, so what did it matter where she landed?

A thought fought its way to the surface of her mind. This was a corridor, a passage without end. It sloped endlessly upward ahead of her…and behind her…she turned round. The passage was darker here. It sloped downward and very rapidly disappeared into a dense billowing fog. Hermione squinted, but her vision couldn't penetrate very far into the murky gloom. She swallowed hard; it looked none too inviting. In all the times she had gone through this dream, she had never even considered exploring the passage that way, she had always been too scared to. 'But,' she logically reminded herself, 'this is my _mind_, what the hell can happen to me in here really?'

Up or down, it was a simple decision.

Lupie let out a menacing growl as she headed downward, but Hermione ignored it. The mist closed in around her. The gathering gloom made it hard to see. She coughed again, harder than before and staggered sideways in sudden dizziness. If she was going to find anything, she would have to find it soon. Hermione made her way forward, feeling the wall for guidance. By her reckoning she had travelled at least twenty yards before she noticed the light. The solid murk of the fog started to give way as flashes of white light detonated ahead of her. It was impossible to gauge distance in the fog, but the flashes gave her the impression that she was getting close to the end of the corridor, and whatever was there.

She became aware of the wind. A gentle but constant breeze was blowing from behind her, pushing the wisps of fog ahead of it toward the source of the light. Inch by inch, step by step she moved forward. The wind blew harder, the fog was thinned further. Now she could see more of her surroundings. In the light of the flashes, she could make out parts of what lay ahead of her. The floor was different here. Small pebbles and bits of debris littered the stone surface. She could hear more falling even now, clattering and pinging off the walls. Some collided with her bare shins, opening deep gashes in her skin. Ignoring the pain, Hermione pushed herself forward on shaking knees. The air was really starting to burn her chest now, the pain made it feel like she was breathing fire, not air. Her vision started to grey and blur. She shut her eyes as a massive fit of coughing bent her double. She didn't have long left before the lack of clean air would make her pass out. 'No,' she thought desperately, feeling as though she was on the edge of something important.

Gathering the last remnants of her strength, she stood up, took the deepest, most painful breath she had taken yet, and stepped forward. As her vision cleared, the sight that greeted her quite literally took her breath away. Hermione stared, not ten feet away from where she was standing, the world had been torn open!

She found herself standing on the outer edge of a vast, turbulent vortex that stretched away into oblivion. Hermione stood agape as she looked at it. It was as though some great monster had literally taken a bite out of the world, tearing a vicious gash into the void beyond reality. The air from the corridor was rushing past her as a gale now. Strands of fog were whipping past her on all sides and disappearing into the void. Hermione felt the thin fabric of her nightgown flap and tug at her legs. She had to fight to hold her balance. The wind was lifting some of the small pebbles from the floor around her and hurling them into the vortex. Hermione watched them rocket into the maelstrom, where they were caught, smashed and shattered by the tidal forces. Tiny flashes and explosions ricocheted back and forth in the depths of the vortex, occasionally shooting out into the corridor to detonate against the wall. It was like watching a bottled storm. Hermione couldn't imagine the end of the world looking any scarier. It was little wonder that the wolf had been leading her in the opposite direction, away from this…whatever the hell it was.

The air boomed with a distant thunder. The vortex shuddered and surged with fresh intensity as the floor beneath Hermione's feet began to shake. The thunder repeated, sending her sprawling on her knees. She looked up, the vortex was churning madly, the flashes within it were growing in intensity with alarming rapidity. Hermione scrambled backward in alarm. A third mighty thunder crack split the air. The vortex contorted and then, with an almighty scream, split open. A massive ball of energy appeared inside it. For a moment it appeared to be frozen in place, but then it shot forward and hurtled toward her. Hermione threw her arms up and screamed.

The wind changed, suddenly becoming far colder. The stone beneath Hermione changed too, it now felt damp and slippery. She opened her eyes. The vortex was gone. The corridor was gone. It had been replaced by a sickeningly familiar vista of cloud.

Hermione couldn't remember ever feeling this way when she realised that she was here. This part of the dream had never felt like the good part before. Hermione leaned back, relishing the free air. If the dream held to the pattern, then she would have a few moments before 'they' arrived to haunt her. The fear that had numbed her mind receded. 'Logic! Dreams come from the mind,' she repeated, 'Then what the hell is my mind trying to do to me?'

They were here. Even without looking up, Hermione knew that they had arrived. Slowly she opened her eyes. The eyes were twinkling all around her – Thousands of points of golden light, spiralling and twisting in the air as they circled above her. Hermione forced her mind back on track. 'Logic, Hermione, what does this mean?'

The eyes continued to circle. One pair separated from the rest and floated closer, hovering mere inches from her face.

"We can see you!" The sound of the roaring voice slammed into her, sending her mind reeling. This was it, this was where she normally woke up. Hermione sat up straight. So why hadn't she? She looked around; the eyes continued to move, but their pattern had started to settle. They were circling her as one now, each holding position in the swarm. Watching the twinkling points of light made them seem all the brighter. The dark space between them seemed to grow darker and darker.

"You are here," the words came again, "We can see you!" Hermione could hear it now. The voice on the wind wasn't a voice at all, rather a chorus of voices from all around her. The eyes were talking to her!

Hermione turned her attention toward the separated pair of eyes. They hadn't spoken with the others, she would have heard them it if they had. She stared at them, and at the darkness of the shadow surrounding them. As she watched, the shadow grew darker. The eyes continued to sparkle out at her from inside it. The shadow took form, a shape solidified before her eyes. Hermione drew back, realising that she wasn't alone on the rocky platform. The shadowy form was a person. A hooded being, cloaked in shadow was materialising in front of her. The eyes had their owner!

"We are here," the chorus rang out again, so loud that it nearly deafened her. "You are here…We can see you!"

There was a jolt, and Hermione came to. The eyes were gone, the sound was gone, the shadow was gone. It was all gone. Hermione swallowed as her eyes focussed on the roof of her bed. She was awake. They weren't here with her. She turned to check the clock again, half past two. A chill ran down her spine. Two hours ago she wouldn't have thought that the dreams could have gotten any worse. Now?

'Not very pleasant, was it?' Hermione froze as the voice whispered in her ear. She struggled to ignore it. 'Oh please,' it said, 'listen, I'm not real, we are agreed on this, right? Logic, after all, is key! There is no logical way that I can be real, so I'm not going to bother arguing the point.' Hermione found herself relaxing slightly as the voice spoke on. 'But,' it said, 'seeing as how I _am_ here, and how I really, honestly have nowhere else to go – you'll just have to take my word on that I'm afraid - and seeing as how there is nowhere for you to go to get away from your own head, can't we just agree that I don't exist, but that I am not going anywhere?'

There was a snigger. Hermione actually smiled. A logical argument to prove that something that was logically impossible was actually real seemed to amuse her. It amused the voice too. 'Right,' it said when the laughter had died down, 'now that we've got that sorted out, I think I should help you.'

'Help me,' Hermione gave in and responded, 'How?' She was slightly nervous. The voice, whatever it was, had offered to help her before, and she had for some reason allowed it to, to no good end.

'Ok, ok,' it soothed, 'I admit that I went a bit…overboard last time. I'm sorry, I just got carried away.'

'What did you do?' Hermione asked, and then corrected herself, 'What did you make me do?'

'Later,' was the answer, 'We'll get to that later. I don't think you're really in the right frame of mind for that at the moment.'

'What do you mean?'

'Nothing,' it answered dismissively, 'Now do you want me to help you or not?'

'You want to help me?'

'That's what I said isn't it?'

In the silent darkness of her bedroom, Hermione frowned nervously. 'What do you mean?'

There was a sigh inside her head. 'You are tired, yes?'

'Yes.'

'Really tired?'

'Yes.'

'Really, really tired?'

'Yes,' the last answer was starting to sound as irritable as she felt.

'In fact, would it be safe to say that you are exhausted?'

'Do you have a point?' she mentally snarled.

Laughter. 'Yes, I do as it happens. My point is that your being tired is one thing that I can help you with, quite easily in fact.'

'How?'

'Well…how can I say this? I am inside your head…even though I don't exist,' it added with an air of annoyance, 'Therefore, wouldn't it stand to reason that I know the inside of your head quite well?'

'I…suppose,' Hermione responded.

'And, given my knowledge of your head's inner workings, wouldn't you expect that I could arrange for you to sleep peacefully?'

'You can stop me dreaming?'

The voice laughed harder than before. 'Heavens no, why on earth would I try to do that?'

'But…'

'No, I meant…oh hell, this is what I meant.'

There was a shifting sensation in her head. Hermione's thoughts slid about uncertainly. 'Hold on…what…'

* * *

Draco yawned as he finished doing up the buttons on his shirt. You could say one thing about Etean's training schedule, it didn't leave much room for recreation. Draco scowled. He wasn't sure exactly when sleep had been transferred onto the list of recreational activities, but it was certainly there, a luxury to be savoured if and when it arrived. The problem was that there simply wasn't enough time in a day to accommodate school, training and sleep. Well, there was, that was where the hourglass came in. Using it allowed them to spend ten hours in the Training Room while only two hours passed outside. This left, as Etean was so happy to point out, at least six hours for sleep. However, as Draco would point out if he thought it would make the slightest difference, six hours wasn't really enough when your waking day tended to stretch to well over twenty-four.

Draco looked over at Etean's bed, and wasn't surprised to find it empty. Draco shook his head. He couldn't imagine how Etean did it. He was always up before Draco, and was always still awake when Draco invariably collapsed from exhaustion. Where did he get the energy to start pouring over long winded situation reports after spending the night twisting and bending Draco's mind into the gods knew what shape and back again?

Draco shook his head. Etean had been doing this damn near his whole life, clearly he was more than used to the strain. Draco stretched and yawned again. 'Good for him!' he thought sarcastically. Draco pulled on his robes and left his room. He needed food. If he didn't have something to give him some energy, he knew he wouldn't last the day. He was passing the door of the second sixth year bedroom when he heard a girl's voice from inside. He could guess who it was, and based on her tone, there was an argument going on. Instinctively, Draco froze to listen. Five years of life in Slytherin House hadn't been lost on him. Overhearing any private conversation was a potential benefit, and arguments almost always were. He slowed his breathing to make out the words.

"I don't understand," he recognised Annabelle's voice instantly, "If you don't want to do it, then don't do it. It's not like he can make you do it or anything."

"Haven't you been listening?" Theo Nott answered her. He sounded annoyed. "Of course he can. He's my father for Merlin's sake."

'His father?' Draco swallowed. 'Theo's father meant that their conversation could only be about one thing.'

"I know that, but he's on the run from the Aurors isn't he?"

"He's in Coventry actually," Theo said idly, "for the moment at least. But he won't stay there forever for crying out loud."

"Yes, but what I meant was that he has a lot to worry about besides you, so you have time."

"I wish that were so," Theo sounded pensive now, almost apprehensive, "he seemed pretty focussed when I spoke to him…And he is not happy with me!"

"But it's not like he can just stroll into the school and get you is it?" Annabelle sounded as though she was trying to soothe Theo.

It didn't work. "What the hell difference does that make?" he snarled at her. "I can't stay here forever, and even if I could it wouldn't matter. Sooner or later the walls of this infernal castle will crumble and, when that day comes, I'll either be of use to him or I won't be. It's that simple."

"You have time," Annabelle pleaded, "time to figure out what to do to fix things."

"You're assuming that's even possible, I'm not so sure."

"But," there was a definite shake in Annabelle's voice now. Clearly, Theo's implication wasn't lost on her, "he's your father. He won't just abandon you."

"Won't he?" Theo laughed. "Don't be an idiot. His son or not, if I'm not an asset to him, he has no reason to protect me. As it is he's losing patience. At this rate I'll be lucky if he doesn't kill me himself."

"Don't say that." Annabelle sounded scared.

"Why not?" There was a pause before Theo spoke again. When he did, his voice had turned to a sneer. "Aww, whatsa matter? Did I scare you? Is the lida baby frightened that I might die?"

Draco winced at the sound of Theo mocking Annabelle. Even if he was right, even if she was scared for him, she wouldn't take that well. Her temper was all but legendary in Slytherin.

"Of course I am, I don't want you to die," she said quietly. Draco frowned; that was not how Annabelle should have reacted. She had scalped people for far less. Only last week she had nearly beheaded a rather dumb first year that had had the bottle to call her 'Blondie' on a dare. What was up with her?

"Don't you?" Theo snapped at her. "Well I suppose I don't blame you. Without me, there won't be anyone left to protect you will there?" He laughed.

"Theo," Annabelle really sounded upset, "please don't…I didn't mean to upset you."

There was a silence. "What did you call me?" Theo said menacingly.

Even without extending himself, Draco thought he could feel a wave of fear from inside the door. He leaned against the doorjamb, and was glad he did because a second later he needed it to hold him up.

"Master," Annabelle said quickly, "forgive me, I didn't think before I spoke your name."

Draco was stunned. 'Did she…no, she didn't just call him…did she?'

His thoughts were shattered a moment later as a loud crack sounded from beyond the door, followed by a dull thud. Draco's mouth hung open. Theo had just hit Annabelle…hard.

"That was a reminder, never forget your place!" Theo hissed.

"I…I won't," said Annabelle shakily.

"No, you won't" Theo added with an air of cruel certainty, "otherwise I won't be so nice about it," he laughed, possibly the most soulless sound Draco had ever heard from him, "I mean, you have your uses…but…" he trailed off, "but I am getting away from the topic. We weren't talking about you."

"No," the tone of Annabelle's voice was flat, "we weren't." Draco shook his head, it definitely was Annabelle talking, but it sounded nothing like the Annabelle he knew. She had called Theo 'Master'? Why on earth had she done that? His trail of thought exploded at her next words. "We were talking about the deal you made with Etean."

'WHAT?' Draco's mind spun off on yet another tangent. Deal? Theo had made a deal with Etean? What the hell was going on? Was this even the same school that he had gone to sleep in?

"Deal?" Theo scoffed, "I'd hardly call it that. That smug git, who does he think he is? He actually expects me to risk my neck for him, and all I get in return is his friendship? That isn't any sort of deal from where I'm standing."

"But," said Annabelle sheepishly, "I thought that you had already told your father about…"

"I know what I have done, Annabelle, I don't need to be reminded. I…oh what's the use? You just don't get it do you?"

"I do get it, Master. You've explained it to me well enough. Your father wants…"

Theo mumbled something as Annabelle's voice trailed off. Draco almost leapt through the door in frustration. 'Wants what?' He strained to hear, but Annabelle never finished her sentence. The words just hung in the air, unfinished. After a moment, he heard movement, a creak in a floorboard, then another. Then it hit him, they were coming closer, Theo was headed to the door!

Draco's mind raced, searching for possible solutions. He did not want to be caught here, he needed time to process what he had just heard. He looked up and down the stairway, but there were no hiding places. Cursing himself for not wearing his cloak, he took the only available option and bolted downward toward his bedroom.

Taking the steps three at once, he flew down and hurled himself through the doorway just as the sound of the other door opening reached him. Winded, he struggled to control his ragged breaths long enough to hear whether or not he'd been noticed. There was nothing but silence from above. After a few tense moments, he heard footsteps on the stairs. They were heavy, so he guessed that it was Theo, and they were getting quieter. Theo was leaving. Draco exhaled deeply and bent double to catch his breath. There was a loud snore from Crabbe's bed. The sound made Draco jump. He had thought that the rest of his house mates were already up. Regaining his breath, Draco decided not to bother trying to wake Crabbe. He didn't have the time or the inclination to care whether that huge moron he was late for class. He left his room, only to return an instant later to retrieve his cloak, which he rolled up and stuffed into his bag.

Draco climbed the stairs again slowly and soon found himself once more outside Theo's room. The door was ajar. Through the crack, he could make out the side of Annabelle's head. She was sitting on Theo's trunk by his bed. He couldn't see her face however, and, after a brief internal argument, curiosity won out and he pushed the door open. Annabelle didn't notice. Draco watched her for a moment, puzzled. When she still didn't move, he walked over toward her, quietly calling her name. Annabelle didn't respond. Draco stopped beside her and called her again, still no response. He raised his hand and waved it before her eyes…nothing. Bewildered, Draco gently extended his mind to touch hers. He sensed her presence almost immediately, but not, he realised to his horror, her thoughts. Her mind was there, everything was as it should be, she wasn't asleep, she wasn't dreaming, it was as though all thought had simply been removed from her head. He moved his focus deeper into her mind, searching for answers. He was by no means comfortable about doing this, memories of Antoine's fragile mind floated to the fore of his brain, but he felt that he had no choice. He had started to probe as deeply as he dared when, as though struck across the face by an unseen hand, Annabelle woke up.

The sensation of her mind suddenly springing to life rocked Draco back on his heels. He stumbled backward, swearing at the pain in his temple as his mind retreated on instinct and broke the link. Annabelle shook herself and looked at him with a startled expression on her face.

"Draco? What are you doing here?"

Draco steadied himself, then straightened up, pushing all traces of his pain from his face. "I was just about to ask you the same question," he said in an annoyed tone.

"I…" Annabelle started. She looked around for a moment, and then examined her own apparel. Apparently surprised at her situation, she paused. It was just for a moment, she recovered smoothly, "What I'm doing here is none of your business," she snapped defensively, "What were you doing sneaking up on me?"

Her tone had taken on an air of defiance. Draco let a slight scowl twist his brow. "I didn't sneak up on you. I was walking past the door and I saw you. I tried to say hello, even called your name…twice, but you didn't hear me."

"So what? Why the hell should I pay any attention to you?"

Draco rolled his jaw. "I was just trying to be civil, in future I don't think I'll bother." Draco turned to leave. It was clear that he would get no answers from her, especially as he wasn't even supposed to know the questions, so he decided to leave it be.

"If it's all the same to you," she called after him sharply, "I'd rather you didn't bother. I don't particularly want to be seen associating with a blood traitor."

'The same old Annabelle, back from wherever she went,' Draco thought, then his mind caught up and replayed her last remark. 'What did she call me?'

Draco stopped and turned round. "Excuse me," he fought to keep his face slack, "I don't think I heard you correctly."

Annabelle sneered. "Oh I think you did," she said, blissfully unaware of how close to the abyss she was drifting, "You heard me very clearly."

"How dare you…"

At this, Annabelle laughed. "How dare I? How dare you, Draco? How dare you lower yourself to such a level? It's disgusting! I don't know how you can dare to show your face in this House after consorting with that…that vermin!"

Rage flooded into Draco's mind, obliterating all before it. "Vermin?" he took an involuntary step toward her before he caught himself. He struggled to hold his temper in check, "I wouldn't advise you to repeat that, Annabelle."

Annabelle sneered. "Or what? You'll sick her on me like you set her on Pansy?"

"I didn't set her on…" Draco started, but then stopped himself. He wasn't about to have this conversation. He took a breath. "I wouldn't have thought that I would have to spell this out, Annabelle," he said, measuring each syllable to dispel his rage before it consumed him, "but clearly I do as you seem to be under the mistaken impression that your opinion of me matters…it doesn't. I don't care what you, or anyone else in this House thinks of me. What I do, and who I chose to do it with is MY business, no one else's. And," his voice dropped to a gravely snarl, "If I were you?" he said in a tone that would freeze fire, "I would never…ever, so much as think about insulting me again."

Annabelle's face remained defiant, but Draco was in no mood to continue the argument. If he stayed any longer, he feared that he might just give in to his instincts and flatten her. He left the dormitory without another word and stormed off toward the Great Hall. His temper remained like a burning flame in his throat. After a while, his flailing mind caught hold and he realised what had just happened. He had almost lost it…again. He had been inches away from punching Annabelle. Damn that girl could be annoying when she wanted to be. 'No, stop it, that isn't what's important here!' He pictured Annabelle before him, standing defiant and defensive in the face of his anger when only moments before she had been knocked to the floor by Theo. For a moment, he understood what had driven Theo to violence but…no…that just wasn't right. He felt his temper rise again, Theo shouldn't have done that. Draco shook his head as he turned the corner and started up the stairs. 'Get over it!' he scolded himself. He was getting soft, since when did he care about morality? But, it was more than the moral issue. The Theo Nott that he thought he knew just wouldn't have dared strike Annabelle. 'That's it,' he told himself, 'focus on the problem, not the anger. Right or wrong, he hit her, why?' Draco ground his teeth and marched with fierce determination, hoping to stamp the anger out of his mind before he really did hit someone. He reached the Great Hall and sat down. His mind finally cleared and he focussed on the real problem at hand.

Theo!

Draco turned, there he was, sitting beside Etean, their heads bent in conversation that only they could hear. It occurred to Draco that this was not an uncommon sight. They were always like that lately, whispering and conspiring together. Draco had noticed, but simply taken it as Etean playing into the student role. He was certainly playing the role well, as well as any other Slytherin. He had only been here a couple of months and already half the school loathed him, the other half seemed to like him or at least afford him a grudging respect. No one, it appeared, could meet Robert Etean and not form an opinion of him. And yet, not one of them knew the first thing about him; it was bizarre, but it seemed to work. Draco yawned. The sound must have been louder than he imagined because it was enough to draw a sideways glance from Theo.

Theo!

Draco once more dragged his mind back on topic. Master? She had called him Master, clearly at his behest. Clearly there was a side to Theo that Draco had yet to witness. Was there more to it than a bad temper? Certainly, no sane person ever expected their girlfriend to call them Master, not unless they liked hospital food. Draco didn't know where to start to figure out how many ways that this situation was just plain wrong. Why the hell was Annabelle putting up with being treated like that? Love? The notion was ludicrous. Fear? But, she couldn't be afraid of Theo surely? Draco almost laughed at the idea. Theo was arrogant to the point of making it an art form, but dangerous?

His eyes moved to Etean. He was still intent on his conversation with Theo. Did he know more about Theo than he was letting on? 'Stupid question!' Of course he did. Etean and Theo had made a deal involving the Death Eaters? Was that the reason? What kind of deal was it? What the hell was Etean up to?

Draco rolled his eyes; that was a question and no mistake. Even if he asked him flat out he probably wouldn't get a straight answer, and certainly not with Theo sitting right next to him, listening to every word. He had taken a mouthful of cereal when he remembered that Theo didn't necessarily need to overhear. Shaking his head in an attempt to wake his sleeping brain, he turned some of his attention to Etean.

'We need to talk,' he sent.

Etean nodded, an answer to something Theo said. 'What about?'

'Theo.'

'What about him?'

'I want to know what's going on between you two.'

At this, Etean's eyes darted in Draco's direction for a moment. 'What do you mean? What have you heard?'

Draco smiled. 'So there is something?'

'Answer the question,' Etean demanded.

'I could,' Draco took another spoonful of cereal and shovelled it down, 'but it would probably save us both some time and effort if you just looked for yourself.'

Inviting someone to read his mind seemed an odd thing to have to do, but it wasn't as though Etean needed the invitation was it? It was just simpler this way. There was a momentary pause, Draco felt the images of the morning float at high speed through his mind.

Etean was a fast reader it seemed. 'Interesting.'

'Is that it? Interesting?'

'You don't agree?' the thought felt innocent enough.

'Agree? I don't…' Draco caught the thought and stopped it. He sighed, drawing a warning thought from Etean. 'You and him made a deal, yes?'

'More of an arrangement really, but you could say that,' Etean answered. His public conversation with Theo ended rather abruptly with the arrival of Blaise. He dropped into the seat opposite and instantly launched into a speech, which Draco didn't have to overhear to know was about quidditch.

Setting aside the rather irksome feeling that Blaise still seemed to be treating Etean as his seeker, Draco returned to the conversation. 'What does this arrangement involve?'

'That,' Etean answered after a moment, 'is a rather long story.'

Oh no, he wasn't dodging this one. 'Short version then, just the highlights. Does it involve me?'

'No,' was the reply, almost instantly.

'But it involves the Death Eaters?'

Etean visibly paused. 'Again, you could say that, yes.' He shook his head and started to berate Blaise about something or other.

Draco felt his temper flaring. 'If it involves the Death Eaters, then it has to involve me!' he shot the thought forcefully at Etean, suppressing a wince of pain in the process.

Etean seemed to consider this. 'That is a rather circular path of thinking, but logical nonetheless.'

Draco felt elated at the apparent victory. 'Right, so you won't mind telling me about the deal then?'

Etean glanced at him again. 'Alright, but later. It is a long story.'

Draco felt he had no choice but to accept this. Perhaps a private chat would be a better way to discuss this than a secure, but public conversation. He turned his attention back to his cereal. People were entering the Great Hall in a steady stream now. Draco occasionally spared them a glance, hoping to see Hermione walk in. This was shaping up to be a long day and he was looking forward to having her smile to distract him. Looking up now however, he saw Pansy, she and Millicent had just walked in. Pansy's eyes scanned the table. She saw him and froze. Draco forced himself not to wince at the look in her eyes, somewhere between despair and confusion. He had told her how he felt, finally, feeling that he somehow owed her the honesty. It hadn't been the first time he had dumped her, truth be told that had damn near been his hobby over the last two years, but it had been…different, this time. He had been prepared for her to curse him, threaten him, and insult him…the usual. He had been prepared for her to rant and rave, and then to wail and cry. He hadn't expected her to simply stand up and walk away.

That, however, was just what she had done, and had continued doing. She had just walked away from him like he didn't matter. That wasn't like her. That wasn't what she should have done. She should have freaked out, she should have wailed, and, most certainly, she should have spent the last three weeks trying to get him back. Draco was glad that she had finally seemed to have gotten it into her head that he wanted her to leave him be, but, he was also, he had to admit, a little surprised, and maybe even disappointed. After all, wasn't he worth the effort? Shouldn't she be trying to get him back? Shouldn't she at least be mad at him, and at Hermione? Ok, she still hadn't gotten over the whole duelling fiasco, but that shouldn't stop her whining about it. Shouldn't she be threatening Hermione behind her back and badmouthing her to anyone that would listen? Not that he wanted her to, he thought rapidly, the thought of her insulting Hermione lit the rather short fuse on his temper and made his blood boil a bit too quickly for his liking. Her behaviour annoyed him. He had dumped her but…shouldn't Pansy want him back?

The two Slytherin girls remained at the doorway, talking quietly. From what he could see of their gestures, Pansy apparently didn't want to as much as share the table with him. They were joined at the door by Annabelle, who had showered and dressed in record time. Her addition to the group appeared to outweigh Pansy's objections. Together, she and Millicent each linked an arm and frogmarched Pansy inside. Once she was moving, Pansy gave up struggling. Draco watched her painstakingly avoid looking at him as the trio passed. He noticed Annabelle looking at Theo and smiling, the gesture was returned. That jarred in Draco's head. They shouldn't be on such good terms, not after the row they had just been having. Not after he had just walloped her.

Draco looked intently at Annabelle, from the sound, Theo had hit her very hard across the face, but Draco could see no mark from the blow. Make up could have disguised it, it was true, but come to think of it, he hadn't noticed a mark earlier either. He was bewildered. Had he simply not hit her hard enough to leave a mark? Or more likely, had she magically hidden the evidence to cover up for Theo? Why would she do that? And what had caused her strange behaviour earlier? Not, he caught himself again, her insulting Hermione, that was par for the course as Annabelle went, but the other stuff. Draco looked over at Theo again, recalling the things he had said to her. Draco found it hard to imagine Theo ever daring to act like that to Annabelle, she who could petrify trolls with a single word. Yet she hadn't responded, hadn't gotten angry, not even when he hit her. Master? What was going on? He looked at Theo again, what had he done to her?

'That, Draco, is a very good question,' Etean's words drifted into Draco's mind.

'Does that mean we are going to find out?'

There was no reply; there was no need for one. Along the table, a tiny smile twisted Etean's lip.

* * *

Hermione closed the bedroom door as quietly as she could. The doctor had said Draco needed rest, so she was determined not to wake him. The room was dark, but enough light was getting through the curtains for her to navigate. Hermione made her way over to the bed and quietly drew the curtain back. There he lay. Draco Malfoy, incapacitated…again! Hermione shook her head. Why was it that every time she took her eyes off him for a second, he wound up in hospital?

It was infuriating. He seemed to seek out trouble on an almost daily basis. Why did he always have to go? There were others that could do it, why couldn't he see that? It was really, really annoying. Her eyes settled on his bare chest, on the heavy bandages that hid his wounds. It was terrifying!

Hermione kicked off her shoes and shed her robes. Careful not to wake him, she gently climbed onto the bed and stretched out beside him. She rested her head on her hand and looked down at him. His face twitched and danced – he was dreaming. Hermione smiled and ran a finger gently down his face. She wondered what he was dreaming about. She couldn't begin to imagine. His mind was a strange thing, it could conjure up some very odd things when it wanted to.

She withdrew her hand quickly as he moved. For a moment she thought she had awoken him, but his eyes remained closed. He rolled over onto his side, the wounds on his chest apparently not hurting with the movement. His arm swung round and narrowly missed hitting her. Hermione smiled, adjusted her position slightly and looked down at his hand. It wasn't often that she got to see it. Draco was very self conscious about it. He normally kept his glove on as much as possible so that 'people' wouldn't stare at it. That was what he said at least. Hermione knew that he really didn't want her looking at it. He thought that it made him look ugly to her, a scarred and twisted monster. He couldn't be more wrong of course, but he wouldn't listen.

Hermione reached out with her free hand and touched his, careful not to touch the exposed metal fibres. He could feel those, and she didn't want to wake him. The skin between the fibres was cold, but not unpleasant to the touch. Draco was always quick to remind her that it was dead, but it didn't look that way to her. Yes, it was the wrong colour, and yes, it was cold, but it was just part of Draco. Far from being ugly and repulsive, to her it was a symbol of his strength. He was a warrior and his scars were his trophies. She turned her attention to the scar on his hand. Her finger traced the length of it. Shaped as a bolt of lightning, it instantly made her think of Harry. Bad idea! Where was he? Heaven only knew. She hadn't thought to ask when she had arrived, but she was almost certain that he wasn't here. If anything, he was worse than Draco. Perpetually risking his life when he didn't need to. She shook her head, those two were more alike than either would ever admit, perhaps that was why they had been enemies for so long. She smiled, enemies were what they had been, but you couldn't call them that now. You couldn't call them friends either come to think of it. Hermione didn't think about it for long. She was past trying to define their peculiar relationship these days. They were what they were, and she couldn't waste time worrying about it now. Wherever Harry was, whatever he was doing, he'd survive, he always did.

Draco stirred again. His hand seemed to realise that she was touching it and it curled around her fingers. She looked up at his face, but he was still asleep. His head had rolled back slightly, exposing his neck. Hermione's eyes came to rest on his other scar. A wicked burn starting below his left ear and running down, crossing his carotid artery and down onto his throat. Looking at it had always made Hermione shiver. She saw it often enough though, this one he didn't hide. He said it was there to remind him of what he was and of what he was trying to become. Hermione didn't really understand what that meant. But if the war had taught her anything, it was that scars were a part of life – You couldn't avoid them. Draco had his scars, just as she had hers. Hermione blinked away the bad memories and let her hold on his hand tighten ever so slightly. His scar glinted slightly. The odd pattern of the dragon's wing burned into his skin was strangely clear in this light. Hermione watched his pulse beat beneath it for a moment. Burns were never the prettiest of scars to look at and this one was no exception. Yet it was part of him, as was the pain of its creation, so she loved it just as she loved him.

"It isn't polite to stare you know?" Draco's voice sounded groggy. He hadn't opened his eyes.

Hermione lowered her head onto the pillow beside his. "How long have you been awake?"

"How long have you been here?" He smiled, but still kept his eyes closed.

"I just got back from London," she answered, keeping her voice a whisper to preserve the quiet of the moment, "they said you'd been hurt." She looked down at his bandages for a moment.

"It isn't that bad," he said dismissively, "I just have to learn to dodge faster in future."

Hermione moved closer to him. "You shouldn't be dodging at all and you know it," she didn't make much of an effort to disguise the scolding tone in her voice, "It doesn't always have to be you. Why not let someone else…"

"Hermione," he interrupted her.

"What?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Shut up."

Draco moved toward her, his lips parted as he prepared to kiss her. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for their lips to meet.

They never did. After a few moments, she opened her eyes in confusion. She was lying on her side on a bed, staring at a drawn curtain. Draco was nowhere in sight. She frowned for a moment, then it made sense. She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. It was light, clearly after dawn. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had woken up in daylight. She reached out and tugged the curtain back to look at her clock. It was eight thirty six. She lay back again and started doing the sums.

'Six hours!' it was the longest she had slept in months. To Hermione it felt more like an eternity. She was awake, really awake for the first time in forever.

'You're welcome,' the voice inside her head returned.

Hermione sighed. 'You did that?'

There was a slight laugh. 'No, of course I didn't,' it sounded sarcastic. 'I don't exist, remember?'

Hermione was about to answer, when she remembered that there was no point. She was talking to herself, there was no other way to put it. She rubbed her eyes, and then realised what time it was.

"Shit," she exclaimed, rather louder than she had intended, and leapt out of bed.

* * *

'Where is she?' Draco craned his neck and looked around the classroom again. No, Hermione wasn't here. Professor McGonagall was though, she was sitting at her desk writing. Every few moments, her eyes raised and scanned the room, hovering for a moment at the door. She was stalling, deliberately delaying the start of class because Hermione wasn't here. Draco knew full well that she wouldn't do that for him, or for any other student.

Beside Draco, Etean sighed. "This is fun," he grumbled quietly.

"Would you rather be doing Transfiguration?" Draco asked him.

"That is why we are here, isn't it?" Etean sat forward and started to flip through his book. Draco was about to ask him what had annoyed him, but at that moment the door opened. Hermione entered looking flushed. She ground to a halt beside the only available seat, next to Lavender Brown, and dropped her bag. She looked up and opened her mouth to speak but McGonagall was quicker than her.

"Take a seat Miss Granger," she said in a stern tone. Hermione complied. Draco turned and watched her face glow red with embarrassment. McGonagall cleared her throat and launched into her lecture. Draco paid her no heed, preferring instead to watch Hermione. This wasn't looking like her lucky day. He watched her rummage furiously in her bag and then, straighten up empty handed. He smiled. 'She's forgotten her book, silly girl.' Their eyes met. Draco shot her a grin and a slight head shake. Hermione looked none too happy. She scowled at him briefly before leaning over to Lavender and asking to share her book. Lavender shook her head and rolled her eyes, but then pushed her book into the centre of the desk.

Out of nowhere, Etean suddenly kicked Draco in the ankle. "Ouch!" he hissed, turning round, "what was that f…" The question answered itself. McGonagall was looking at him. She had obviously just said something to him which Draco hadn't heard. Her glare was icy. 'Damn it,' he scrambled for an answer, had she asked him a question? 'Little help please,' he sent to Etean.

McGonagall answered for him. "Did you not hear me, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco swallowed. 'That name again!' He shook his head. "No, Professor, I didn't."

McGonagall nodded curtly. "Indeed, perhaps it would be best if you were to focus on me during class in future?" It was posed as a question.

"Yes, Professor," Draco answered sheepishly, "I'm sorry."

"As well you should be," McGonagall snapped. Her eyes darted from Draco to Hermione for a second. The hint of a question flashed across her face. "I take it that I now have your full attention?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Well then, perhaps you could now answer the question: What benefits does the addition of Unicorn based ingredients to medicinal potions have?"

'What?' Draco frowned, potions? This was supposed to be Transfiguration. His mind raced, there were quite a few potions he knew of that could be called 'medicinal', dozens in fact. They ranged from burn ointments to cold remedies. He even knew of one called Dormiens that rendered the drinker immune to almost any poison. But the key ingredient in that was a bezoar stone, not Unicorn. As it happened, he didn't know of any potions that were brewed from Unicorn, medicinal or otherwise.

"I…" he cleared his throat, "I'm afraid that I don't know, Professor."

McGonagall scowled. "What a surprise!" she said dismissively. "One of these days, Mr Malfoy, you will give me the surprise of my life and actually do the pre-class reading that I set for you. I assure you that I do not do it purely for the good of my health or for fun."

Draco felt himself shrink with every word from the Professor's mouth. McGonagall looked as though she was getting ready for another salvo when another voice cut the air.

"Please Professor!" it was Hermione's voice.

McGonagall stopped and looked up at her. To Draco's mind it appeared as though everyone else had turned too. It had been weeks since Hermione had answered a question in class without it being directed at her specifically. Draco knew it was because she wasn't sleeping any better than he was, if anything, she was worse off than him. Sometimes she barely had the energy to stay awake, yet alone do her homework. She hadn't liked it, but she still refused to ask for any medical assistance, so she had been forced to cut back on her studies. Draco knew that it was tough for her, but she seemed to have accepted it, albeit reluctantly. She had even started skipping classes, Defence classes mostly, claiming that they were too tiring for her. Draco looked at her now, sitting in the back row with her hand raised, the image of herself of old. Clearly 'cutting back' didn't include Transfiguration. He shrugged, it was her favourite class after all.

"You know the answer, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked. Draco heard the merest trace of smugness in her voice.

Hermione nodded and lowered her hand. "Yes. Unicorn isn't used in medical potions…or in any others. It is considered a dangerous substance and so, its use is banned."

"And why is it considered dangerous?"

"Because it is unstable. Consumption of undiluted Unicorn blood has disastrous consequences for the drinker. While it does have certain benefits, curing illness and preserving life, the…erm, negative side-effects are severe. Some of the worst of them are madness, dementia and paranoia. Unicorn blood also instantly renders the subject entirely dependent on it for survival, they have to consume ever increasing quantities of it each day or they die."

Draco remained looking at Hermione for a moment until she looked at him. 'Thank You!' he mouthed at her before looking away. McGonagall was speaking again.

"Precisely," McGonagall smiled wide, "Take twenty house points, Miss Granger," there was a groan from the Slytherin side of the room, but not, Draco noticed, an answering cheer from the Gryffindors. He saw some of them exchange sideways looks, but they remained silent. "The effects of exposure to Unicorn blood are, as Miss Granger pointed out, quite devastating. The same is true for all other parts of the beast, though only, it is important to note, if the Unicorn is killed in the process of obtaining them. Unicorn tail hairs can be safely harvested, and are often used without difficulty in the cores of many wands, and hairs taken from a Unicorn's mane have long been used as a preservative."

McGonagall paused and consulted her notes for a moment, "Beyond these two uses however, little is known of the properties of Unicorn, and with good reason. The danger of experimentation was revealed when a pair of Irish witches accidentally killed themselves in 1802. They were attempting to brew a potion to reverse aging, however their irresponsible use of Unicorn blood in their experiments accidentally caused incontrollable side-effects. Death spread as a disease amongst all those who came in contact with the sisters, who were too slow to realise their blunder and report it to the authorities. By the time the situation was contained, their mistake had obliterated all life in a village called Tubber, some one hundred and fifty souls." McGonagall paused. "Simple proof that some lines are not meant to be crossed. Following this tragedy, an international ban on further research in the field was introduced. The intention was to prevent further loss of life. Unfortunately, in this case, ignorance has not always been bliss. If you will turn to page 317," she paused for them to comply. Draco flipped to the page and had to suppress a gasp. The page was entirely given over to a drawing of what appeared to be the result of someone taking a Unicorn and dropping it from a great height…in a tornado. The head, with its instantly recognisable ten inch horn was the only thing present that allowed the animal to be identified. Surrounding it, tattered muscles and dripping entrails were scattered about, twisted into shapes that simply couldn't be the result of nature. The overall effect was totally revolting. Based on the sounds coming from around Draco, the class were all thinking roughly the same thing.

Draco looked at Etean, he was tracing a finger along the image with a contemplative look on his face. The Professor cleared her throat to regain order. "It has been theorised in recent years that the instability is caused by the death of the Unicorn itself rather than any inherent property of the beast. Naturally an almost immortal creature, its unnatural death triggers a deep level reaction that unbalances some powerful magical forces. These forces are precisely the reason why Transfigurations involving Unicorns so often go wrong," Draco looked back at the picture. Transfiguration gone wrong? Sure enough, that was what the small caption said, or words to that effect at least. Draco blinked, a new respect for the discipline of Transfiguration settling over him.

The Professor continued her lecture, describing several difficulties in transfiguring Unicorns and eventually branching out to Dragons, Wyverns and Griffins. They were the most famous members of a class of magical creatures that all shared certain dangerous commonalities. He noted however, that while she was more than ready to provide them with ample warnings, she did seem to be deliberately avoiding mentioning any spells or incantations. He assumed that she was simply being cautious, after all, who wanted shredded Unicorns all over the place?

Throughout the lecture, McGonagall called their attention to several more illustrations. Though none were as ghastly as the first one, none of them were remotely pleasant to look at. The picture she showed them to illustrate a failed Dragon transformation was little more than a charred crater. Draco had never before imagined the term 'blast radius,' as applying to an animal transformation.

Occasionally, when McGonagall was otherwise distracted, Draco spared a glance in Hermione's direction. He was pleased to see her gradually striking up a conversation with Lavender. Draco might not care what his housemates thought of him, but the same was not true for Hermione. Maybe she had forgotten her book on purpose as an excuse to have to talk to them. He smiled, she could be remarkably devious when she wanted to be, that one.

The class ended. McGonagall gave them a two foot essay on Wyverns as a parting gift. Draco felt his fingers starting to hurt just thinking about writing it. He left the room to find Hermione waiting for him outside.

"Morning," he said cordially, "I see we are feeling better." It was true, she did look more relaxed.

Hermione smiled at him. "We are, thank you for noticing." She turned with him, linking his arm as they headed down the corridor. Draco noticed Weasley shooting them an angry glare, but the others paid them little heed. The scandal of Draco and Hermione seemed to have lost its appeal what with the war and everything else. They walked in silence down the corridor toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. They reached the corner, and Hermione stopped.

"Something wrong?" he asked her quietly, stepping aside to allow other students to pass them.

Hermione bit her lip for a moment. "No."

Draco motioned down the corridor. "Well, class is this way."

"I know," she sounded a little off, "but…I'm not going to Defence today."

"Again?" he narrowed his eyes, "Why?"

"I'm too tired."

Draco frowned at her. "You just said you were feeling fine. What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" she seemed to be getting evasive.

He leaned closer to her. "Well, now this is just a thought, but, well…the last time you were in a duel, it didn't exactly go well, did it?"

She took a breath. "No." She bit her lip again.

Draco put a hand on her shoulder. "And you blame yourself?"

"Who else is there to blame?" she answered defensively.

"Whoa," he retreated a bit, "That isn't what I meant. I just meant that…well…accidents happen, so you don't need to worry."

Hermione took a moment, then shook herself. "No!" she hissed under her breath. "I know that," she said quickly, "But I just…I just don't feel up to it, so don't make a fuss, ok?"

Draco raised his hands in surrender. "Alright…alright. I still think you're worrying about nothing, that's all.

"Stop it," Hermione whispered.

Draco blinked at her in confusion. "Stop what?"

She looked at him, and grimaced slightly. "Nothing," she smiled and shook her head. "Hey," her tone became playful suddenly as she stepped closer to him, "I dreamed about you last night."

This stalled Draco's confusion. Dreaming about him? "Really?" he made his voice sound as smarmy as he could, "Well, no wonder you were late to class. Couldn't drag yourself away eh? It must have been good…"

"Draco!" Hermione's eyes darted around her as she blushed. "Stop it."

"No, no," he wasn't about to let this one go, "Come on, what was the dream about?"

The bell rang. Hermione looked up and appeared to be relieved. "It doesn't matter, you had better be getting to class."

"It can wait," Draco smiled, "you can't get out of this that easy. I'm intrigued. You're in far too good a mood this morning," he raised his gloved hand and gently tapped her temple, "What nasty little scenarios did that mind of yours conjure up?"

Her jaw dropped in indignation, but her eyes were smiling at him. Her eyes moved to his hand, and the smile faded.

"What?" he asked.

"Draco," her voice was trembling a bit, "how's your hand?"

The question caught him off guard. Instinctively he lowered his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. "Fine, why?"

Her eyes never moved from his pocket. "Then why are you still wearing that glove?"

He shrugged, suddenly eager to change the subject. "Habit," he said, "Hey, what am I doing? I had better get to class."

He made to leave, but Hermione stopped him. "Show me your hand, Draco," she demanded.

'What the hell has gotten into her?' Draco's mind was edging toward panic. He looked up and down the corridor hurriedly. They were alone now. "Hermione, really…I have to be going."

"Show me!" her voice had risen. She was tugging at his wrist now.

"No," Draco shook her loose and jumped back from her. "What is wrong with you today?"

Hermione stood in place, out of breath. Her eyes moved rapidly from his pocket to his face and back again. After a few, heavy breaths, she took a step forward. "Draco," she said quietly and slowly as he retreated from her, "please don't ask me to explain this…I'm not sure that I can. But I NEED you to show me what your hand looks like under that glove."

Draco's mind scattered for cover, did she know about his hand? How? "Why?" he asked, stalling for time to think of a way out of this.

"Please, Draco." It was a plea. Hermione's eyes locked onto his. Looking at those amber globes, Draco felt his willpower evaporate. She wasn't going to give up and he couldn't dodge forever. He was going to show her his hand. There was no stopping it now. He looked around again rapidly, then grabbed her by the hand and tugged her down the corridor, back the way they had come. He found an empty classroom and pulled her inside. Draco shut the door behind them and let out a very heavy breath.

"Hermione…" he said.

"Just show me will you?" she demanded again.

Draco turned and looked at her. He felt his heart racing as he lifted his bag from his shoulder and dumped it on the floor. He opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione cut him off with a pleading look.

'This is a mistake!' Draco told himself. He took his hand from his pocket. The glove felt ridiculously heavy as he pulled at it. It seemed to be glued to his fingers. Finally it came free. Draco swallowed and held his hand aloft before her eyes.

Hermione's face paled. Her eyes moved over his hand, growing wider and wider with each passing second. "No," she shook her head, "no, no, no…" She stepped back and seemed to grow unsteady on her feet. Her hand waved about, searching for something to hold her up. She found a desk and made to sit down. She missed and landed heavily on the floor.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, instantly feeling stupid. 'Is she alright?' He moved over and knelt beside her. "Hermione," he called her but she didn't seem to hear him. She was staring into space, apparently at nothing. He took hold of her head and turned it toward him. "Hermione, please…I know it looks bad…but please listen to me…"

Her head jerked free of his grip. "Listen…listen to you?" she said, starting to sound hysterical. "No…no…no," she pushed him back and clambered to her feet, "No I'm not listening…not anymore…it isn't real, it isn't right…I didn't hear you…I can't hear you!"

Hermione's fingers knotted in her hair. She started to pace in circles, ranting and raving to herself. Draco stared at her for several long moments before something snapped in his mind. He leapt to his feet and grabbed hold of her by the shoulders. "Hermione," he shook her, a bit harder than he intended, "What is it?" she didn't answer. Draco shook her again, "Please…calm down and talk to me. I know it looks…scary, but I can explain…really I can…"

Her eyes focussed on him. "Expl…explain?" she said, sounding as though every syllable was torture. She looked down at his hand where he was still holding her shoulder. "No," her voice sounded strained, "no, it's still there."

"I know," Draco sighed, "but if you'll just listen…"

"You don't understand," she interrupted him, "I…" she tailed off and shut her eyes, "I saw it."

"Yes," Draco said, confused once more, "I showed it to you."

"No," she shook her head, "I mean…I saw it before…you showed it to me."

Draco let her go, she seemed calmer now. "What do you mean?"

It took her a moment to answer. "My dream…the one you were asking about earlier. You were…we were lying on a bed, talking. I looked down at your hand and…" she reached out as though to touch his hand, "it was this."

Draco's mind tried to fit that in, and failed. "You saw my hand…in your dream?"

"Yes…but…I couldn't have…I mean, it can't have been real, can it?" she asked the question hopefully.

'How the hell should I know?' "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I mean, I know that some people see things…visions, in dreams…but didn't all those books we read say that you had to be born with those kinds of powers?"

"Yes, and I wasn't, nothing like this has ever happened to me before," she said flatly. "So that leaves only one answer."

"You aren't going crazy, Hermione," he assured her. She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he covered her lips with his thumb before she got the chance, "You aren't," he took a deep breath and stepped away from her. "You…really saw this?" he raised his hand. She nodded, "And it was exactly like this?" Another nod, "Well then…if you saw it, then you saw it. We can't waste time worrying about how, we just have to figure out what to do about it."

Hermione spread her arms. "How?"

"I don't know," Draco answered. His eyes narrowed. 'But I think I know someone who would!'

_A/N: Ok that may not be the best place to leave it, but that's where you are. Someone asked me if I was intentionally making this longer than OTP, I wasn't, but here we are. All i can say is that it will be as long as it turns out to be, if i rush the ending (yes i have it planned sheesh!) it will be an insult to your patience. We are getting there, its just that there are so many arcs to tie off…_

_By the by, thank you for all reviews, I like getting them so feel free to drop me a line if you feel I deserve it._


	46. Troublesome Notes

Hermione's legs felt like lead. Draco thought they could deal with this? What the hell did he mean? She tried for the second time to sit down, but her body wouldn't respond. Draco moved over to stand in front of her. As he moved, Hermione couldn't drag her eyes from his hand. It was just as it was in her dream but…it couldn't be.

'What are you trying to do to me?' she asked the inside of her head. She waited, this time actually wanting an answer, but none came. The voice that had been incessantly whispering in her ear all morning had fallen silent once more.

Draco reached out and took hold of her. "Come on," he started to move her backward. With his help, she found her way to a desk and sat down, "Just rest a minute." With his left hand and gently lifted her chin until she was looking at him. "Are you alright?"

"No," she answered. She felt light headed. It felt as though the world was spinning around her. She was starting to feel nauseas. She looked down again at his hand where it was still holding her shoulder. The scar was there, perfectly framed by dozens of intricate golden bands.

"How?" she said, but barely any sound came out of her mouth. Her mind struggled to make some sense of things. This just couldn't be happening. Her mind conjured an image. She pictured the moment that his hand had been hurt, but the spell that he had been hit with couldn't have done that kind of damage. "Professor Flitwick…"

"It wasn't him," Draco seemed to figure out what she was thinking, "Flitwick didn't do this to me."

"What do you mean?" she looked back up at his face.

Draco paused for a moment. "What happened that day with Flitwick…it was" he paused again, Hermione looked expectantly at him, silently pleading for him to make this all make sense somehow. Draco continued, "It was set up to make it look like my injury was his fault, but he didn't hurt me."

"But…no, that doesn't make any sense," she shook her head, "I mean I saw…"

"You saw what you were supposed to see, what…what I wanted you to see."

She shook her head. "I don't understand; if Professor Flitwick didn't do it then who did?"

There was a longer pause. "That is a long story," Draco said as he hunkered down in front of her.

Long story or not, she had to know. "Please, Draco, tell me."

Draco looked at her, and then nodded slightly. "Alright," he paused, "It…this," he flicked the fingers of his hand, the sunlight caught on the metal bands, "happened before that day with Flitwick. I was like this before I ever came back to school." He stopped speaking and shut his eyes for a moment. Hermione thought she saw him shudder. When he spoke again, his face wasn't pointed up at her anymore. He was looking down at the floor. "Do you remember at the end of last summer," his voice was little more than a whisper, "just before we came back to Hogwarts when…my father escaped from Azkaban?"

'His father?' An ache settled over her. "Yes," she answered.

"Well…when he did," Draco sounded as though he had to force every syllable, "he came looking for me and," he looked back up at her, "and…we had a…falling out."

The look in his eyes tore at Hermione. She saw the edges of an emotional storm that he was desperately trying to hold back. "What…"

Draco shook his head to stop her. "I defied him," he said simply, "It wasn't the first time, we never really saw eye to eye on a lot of things. It was kind of a pattern we had going…he would decree…I would complain and we'd have a row. When it came to most things…such as what school I went to or what friends I had, my objections were alright as far as he was concerned, just so long as I kept towing the line when it mattered. But, with Voldemort's" Hermione shuddered, how could he say the name without fear? "return I began to realise that 'towing the line' would soon lead to crossing the line and, when it came down to it, I wasn't prepared to do that. I knew that Lucius wouldn't stay locked up for long, and I knew that when he got out I'd have to act fast to stop him taking me down with him," he paused to smile, "I wasn't quite fast enough."

"What did he want you to…"

"That doesn't matter," Draco cut her off quickly, "Let's just say that he had plans for me that I didn't want any part of. I told him as much, and then I tried to leave, to turn my back on him once and for all, but…" the fingers of his right hand curled up into a fist. A wave of anger sent a shiver through him, "but he wasn't about to let me do that," he paused, "so he did this to me."

Hermione's stomach churned. His father, his own father had done that to him? "How?"

"How do you think?" there was an icy edge to his voice now.

Hermione looked down at his hand, and at the scar. A bolt of lightning, burned into his flesh. It was almost surreal. That scar was exactly the same as Harry's…but…that meant… "The Killing Curse?" Draco nodded. "He tried to kill you? But…how did you survive?"

Now Draco stood up. He shrugged. "He missed…almost," Draco rolled his hand around, "I only caught the edge of it, but even then," a deadpan smile crossed his lips, "it would have been enough. He had me where he wanted me. I couldn't run, couldn't hide for long and Lucius wasn't about give up. He and his cronies were going to finish the job. If Etean hadn't bailed me out when he did…"

Draco's words sent an electric bolt down Hermione's spine. 'What?' "Etean?" the question shot out of Hermione, almost as a shout.

Draco froze. He looked distracted for a moment. "Yes…" he said quietly, "Etean was there. He helped me escape and then arranged for," he flexed his fingers for a moment, "for this."

Hermione's mind struggled to make a sense of this, but failed. Etean had saved Draco's life? "Why?"

"Sometimes I ask myself that question," Draco said quietly, but then he smiled, "the truth is that I'm not entirely certain why he does any of the things he does," Hermione was about to ask him to explain that one, but he waved her off. "I met Etean about a year ago, at a really…really boring party. We were the only two people there that didn't look as though we'd been brought out of storage for the evening, so we just kind of got chatting. We got on pretty well, making fun of the old witches and wizards as they prattled on about only heaven knows what." Draco smiled and then shook himself. "Anyway, we kept in touch after that, even bumped into each other a couple of times…he had always said I was welcome to call on him at any time, though he probably wishes now that he hadn't.

"Last summer, when I realised just how much trouble I was about to get into, I figured it couldn't hurt to have Lord Etean as an ally. It wasn't going to hurt to ask him at least; if he could help, great, if not, well I was going to be no worse for it, was I?"

Hermione's head leaned to one side. Draco's story certainly explained some things. Since the day he had arrived, Etean and Draco had been almost inseparable. She had put it down to Draco's normal sycophantic nature, sucking up to the famous kid, but now it appeared that there was more to it than that. Etean had saved Draco's life? Something didn't sit right. Hermione found that her natural suspicion of Etean persisted. Why would he risk his life to help someone who, as Draco described it, was little more than a passing acquaintance? "So you asked him to help you get away from the Death Eaters and he just agreed? Just like that?"

Draco laughed. "I didn't say that. He didn't believe me at first. When he finally did he wanted no part of it. It took a whole lot of fast talking before I convinced him. Even then I don't think he realised what he was getting himself into. To be honest, sometimes I think that he regrets the day he met me."

As Hermione listened, she remembered something Etean had said to her – '_I am Lord Etean. Sooner or later, everyone wants my help!_' The tone of frustrated scorn in his voice had been unmistakable. Listening to Draco's story, it seemed to her that he had been right. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to be in his place. She tried to picture a life of false promises and barely concealed greedy manoeuvres. The light glinted again on Draco's hand. It was resting by his hip, still balled into a fist. It had been hit by the Killing Curse, it was dead. Yet it moved; Draco could still use it. She reached out and took hold of it in both hands, suppressing a shudder as she touched his cold, clammy skin.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. She was suddenly out of breath, terrified and blind. She could see nothing but near total darkness all around her as she ran. An image flashed before her eyes, a branch whipping past her head. She ducked to avoid it on reflex and ran on. She could hear them behind her. How many? Where? She had no idea, but they were behind her somewhere, and they were gaining. She heard them shout, and she heard her fathers cold voice echo over the others, barking orders to guide the hunt. The dark shape of a tree loomed ahead of her and instinctively she dodged to the left. She had no idea where she was going. She was scared and confused. A noise! A cracking twig! She spun and hastily took aim,

"Stupefy!" she roared. Even as she fired the spell, she knew she had missed. The stunner illuminated the darkened shadow of the man that had just appeared out of nowhere between the trees as it whistled by his head and detonated on a tree behind him.

The masked man spun toward her. He took aim and fired. "Avada Kadavara!" There was a sudden green light around her and then her arm exploded in agony.

It faded fast. The world around her became suddenly bright. Someone was calling her name.

"Hermione!" Draco's face appeared.

She blinked and tried to focus on his eyes. Details, where was she? "Trees…" she mumbled.

Draco looked startled. "What?"

"Trees…a forest…I was running…" The look on Draco's face stopped her. She could see bitter recognition in his eyes. Suddenly it made sense. "It was you! You were running through a forest when it happened," Draco's jaw opened in shock, "Weren't you?"

"How…you saw that too?" he knelt again before her, staring wide eyed at her.

Hermione saw her own face reflected in his eyes. "Y…yes I…" she looked away, down at his hand again. "They were chasing you…your father and the others. You were scared and you were running blind. The one that did this…it wasn't your father was it?"

"What did you see?" Draco's tone was one step from terrified.

Hermione willed herself to close her eyes, tearing herself from the safe harbour of his gaze. She pictured it again. "I saw him…no face…just a shape. He fired the curse…and you…you saw it coming and…" She stopped, the lump in her throat choking her voice. She realised that her fingers were still clutching his hand very hard. She forced herself to slacken her grip. "Sorry…I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't," he said flatly. He raised his free hand to touch her face. "You couldn't."

Hermione started to trace the lines of his hand, just as she had in her dream. Lucius hadn't done it, but one of the others. But what did that matter? His father was there, she had heard him. He had led the others as they had tried to kill Draco. Was there no end to how evil that man was? Then her mind stopped. Something clicked home, the answer to a mystery that had been eluding her. "Your mother," she said before she could stop herself, "that's why he…"

A look of pain crossed Draco's face. It seemed to pour out of him. Hermione felt her stomach drop. Why had she mentioned his mother of all things? Draco's hand left her face covered his own. After a moment, he regained his composure. "Yes," his tone was almost hoarse, "that is why he killed her…to get to me." The muscles at the sides of his jaw tightened. His eyes slid closed and his breath became ragged. Hermione watched his body tense as his temper rose inside him again. She saw his cheeks start to colour. He was trembling as he spoke again. "I will get him," his eyes opened and he looked at her. There was a gleam and a sparkle in them that took Hermione's breath away. It was as though they were the tip of a vast iceberg of pure hatred within him. How could one person hold so much anger? Her safety gone, Hermione was as a rabbit caught in those two bright lights. She shuddered, feeling genuine fear of him at that moment. Eyes like that could terrify even the bravest of souls, and she didn't feel very brave at the moment. She couldn't bear to look at them for more than a moment. Shaking, she looked away and shrank back, releasing his hand so she could fold her arms around herself.

Draco stood up. She heard him take a couple of deep breaths as she calculated the fastest escape route. Before she could move, his hands took hold of her by the shoulders and lifted her back to her feet. Hermione kept her head low, not wanting to see his face like that again. His body seemed to slacken. Pulled by a force she didn't know, she looked up into his eyes once more. The anger was gone now. Hermione was instantly relieved. His face softened as he looked at her, he seemed to relax and shrink before her very eyes. His grip on her softened. "I didn't mean to scare you," he said quietly.

"You didn't," she lied.

Draco smiled. His hands moved around to her back and he pulled her forward into a hug. "Yes I did," he whispered into her ear, "and I'm sorry."

Hermione let herself relax. Her arms found their way around his waist as she leaned in and melted into his embrace. The fear of the moment had passed, but that left her as she was before. This wasn't right. Recurring dreams that made no sense, a terrifying and potentially dangerous disease, and now, visions of things she shouldn't be seeing? This couldn't be her life, it just couldn't. "I'm scared, Draco," she said, her voice muffled by his robes.

"I know," he said soothingly. His voice was confident and sure, the sound of it steadied her. "But we will figure this out, I promise."

She pulled back from him. "How?" she asked the question again, "Where do we start?"

He smiled, looking really sure of himself. "At the beginning – the library. Maybe there was something we missed in those books of yours."

Hermione thought it over. Yes, books had always held the answers before, even if they had eluded her temporarily from to time. "OK."

* * *

Etean watched without much interest as Potter's shield swung around to meet the incoming spells. Weasley, Longbottom and Dean Thomas were all repeatedly casting the Pigmenus charm at him in a vain attempt to get one past his defence. Not one of their attacks ever seemed to get close, though they persevered nonetheless. This had been going on for a while now. Etean wondered just how long Professor Flitwick would allow it to continue, but he seemed to be enjoying himself too much to put a stop to it. 'Isn't the point of this class to teach those that need help?' Flitwick didn't seem to think so; he was more than happy to let Potter show off. The Professor was clapping and cheering madly, ooh-ing and ah-ing each near miss with childlike enthusiasm. Etean marked the difference in him. Lately, when he was teaching their charms lessons, he seemed depressed and down, yet now his energy was renewed. Duelling seemed to ignite a fire in him that even the deepest depression couldn't quash. 

The students were a little nonplussed however. Even the other Gryffindors were starting to show signs of boredom at the performance, and it was a performance. Potter was putting on a show of just how good he was for all to see. Though it annoyed him, Etean had to say one thing for Potter, he was skilled. His reflexes were excellent and his instincts finely honed; the product of a life in the firing line. If he could only use that lump of wasted brain between his ears to think up ways to actually avoid trouble altogether once in a while, he might actually start to shape up into a pretty impressive wizard. The same couldn't be said for the others.

Of the three, Dean showed the most promise in Etean's opinion. His technique showed a little too much of having been learned by rote – it lacked the flow that even Weasley seemed to possess. Thomas' one saving grace came from the fact that he wasn't burdened by silly issues or persecution complexes. Admittedly, in Potter's case, those complexes were deserved, and had born fruit, but they were still a hindrance to the others. Weasley was bouncing on his corns, getting more and more frustrated as he weaved madly, searching in desperation for a chink in Potter's armour. Longbottom, at the same time, seemed to be trying to punch through using brute force alone. Etean watched him as he sucked in deep breaths before each casting, and then hurled his spells against Potters mobile barrier. Etean shook his head; did Neville really believe that a Pigmenus could puncture that shield? A stunner could…maybe, an unforgivable…certainly, but a Pigmenus?

Etean turned his attention from the duel. His eyes scanned the room. Sure enough, there remained a total lack of Draco. Etean frowned for a moment, wondering where he was. His eyes continued around the room and the answer jumped out at him. There was also a total lack of Granger. Etean clucked his tongue, but Draco's choice in that matter was made. Etean's mind refused to pass the thought by without fixating on Granger for a moment. Her absence was no surprise. Someone in her condition could hardly take the risk of attending a duelling class, the odds of a stray spell or two were just too high. He scanned the room again, gauging the response, if any to her absence…none. There had been no mention of her condition from any of the Gryffindors, or from the staff, who appeared to be dealing with the situation by turning a blind eye to her unexplained disappearances. Draco seemed to be the only one that actually noticed her departure from this class. This puzzled Etean, wasn't she supposed to be Miss Popular? He shrugged inside his head. 'I guess things have changed!' He smiled at the thought. Her absence over the last few weeks had made these classes a little more bearable but, his smile faded, not much. There was a cheer from Flitwick. Potter must have made yet another impressive block. 'Yippee!' Etean turned back to the duel.

He checked his watch; the class was almost over. Thus far Draco's absence had gone unnoticed, to Flitwick at least. He was only paying attention to those that he called forward and hardly seemed to be aware of the rest of the class at all. Draco's absence was not entirely unnoticed however. Etean had seen Pansy Parkinson glancing nervously around several times. Despite her words to the contrary, Draco was still, in her mind, her property. The current situation was merely a hiccough in her perfect dream of a life for the two of them. He half wondered what little mental shuffling was going on in her head to account for his taking up with Granger. But those questions were for another time. Etean had other matters to worry about. Theo Nott, for example. The mystery surrounding that boy and his father was starting to get tiresome. Etean was seriously starting to consider bashing his way through Nott's mental walls and ripping the answers right out of him. But no, that would not do. Having Nott suddenly reduced to a mumbling, drooling lump of animated flesh would cause a whole new string of problems, and might not even solve any of the current ones.

So the wait continued. Draco had stumbled across something rather interesting this morning. From what he had heard, Nott and Annabelle did not have the great relationship that they appeared to have. In fact there seemed to be something seedy going on there, another layer to the mystery. Etean was willing to accept that couples sometimes argued in private and hid those arguments from others. He was even willing to admit that those arguments could turn violent on occasion without breaking into the public domain. There was something about this, however, that didn't sit right. The duality of Annabelle's reaction didn't add up.

Unlike Nott, her mind was open and free to be inspected. Etean had wandered down those mental alleyways a couple of times in search of answers about her enigmatic boyfriend, but had found nothing other than what there appeared to be. Annabelle knew full well who and what Theo was, but she was playing the 'right hand of Lucifer', motivated by self preservation. To her credit, she really did seem to have some feelings for him, and was apparently strong enough to ignore the bits she didn't want to know about. In that regard, she was the perfect little Slytherin moll. She was an opinionated, spoiled, stuck up bigot with about the same amount of feminine charm as a diseased pixie. But she was easy enough on the eyes and knew when to keep her mouth shut. She did have a temper and a penchant for starting rows over the tiniest of insignificant details, something that she should really learn to control if her plan for survival was to work. Had she reacted the way Etean would have expected her to, then Dumbledore would currently be rebuilding the Slytherin dungeon. The fact at the end of the day was that Annabelle would not, just not, roll over and take such treatment…but she had.

The simplest explanation for her apparent denial of the incident was a memory charm. Nott hit her and then regretted it, so he wiped it from her mind: Unpleasant, but OK, definitely possible. Then there was the whole 'Master' thing. If Draco had heard correctly then she had called him that with an air of fear. Etean looked at Nott. He certainly didn't seem to be the type to inspire such fear. Who in their right mind would call him 'Master'? He paused, there was always that explanation; maybe she wasn't in her right mind. She would certainly not be the only Slytherin nutcase, but that didn't add up either.

With a casual air, he started to move around the room toward Nott. There were times for quiet investigations, and there were times for direct questioning. There were also times when neither approach suited, and the only solution was to employ both. Etean sidled up to Nott,

"Who stepped on your toes this morning?" he whispered.

Nott jumped slightly, tensing in his customary manner whenever he spoke to Etean. "What?" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

Etean shook his head slightly. "Hey, don't bite my head off. You just looked a little annoyed that's all."

"What are you talking about? I don't look annoyed."

"My mistake," said Etean. Nott was right, he didn't look annoyed in the least, but he looked worried now. "I just thought it had something to do with your little spat with Annabelle earlier."

Etean actually felt Nott's mind freeze solid. "What?" he asked aloud, drawing the attention of a few neighbouring Slytherins. Nott paused and recovered his composure. "What little spat?"

Etean looked at him out of the corner of his eye. 'A tad worried, are we, Theo?' "That wasn't the impression I got," he shrugged, "I was passing by your bedroom this morning and I heard raised voices," he smiled, "If you weren't arguing, you have a strange way of…of spending quality time with your girlfriend." Etean allowed his smile to remain as he watched Nott squirm. 'Go on,' he goaded silently, 'get out of this one in one piece!'

Nott ran a hand through his hair. His eyes were moving feverishly in their sockets. "What exactly did you hear?"

'That you seem to enjoy venting your frustrations on your girlfriend…that you seem to think of me as a huge pain in your arse…' "Nothing much," he said, "just raised voices. I didn't linger, it was none of my business."

Nott seemed to shrink visibly at this. "Oh," he sighed and rolled his eyes, "that," he shrugged, "It was nothing really."

"Like I said," Etean turned away, "it was none of my business." He looked back to Nott. 'If you're smart, Theo, you'll leave it at that.'

"No, really," Nott didn't leave it at that, "Annabelle and Blaise had a row…something to do with quidditch,"

"What else?" they both said in unison.

Nott smiled. "Yeah…he was tearing into her about some mistakes that she apparently made in the last match…she was tearing into him about being a big headed tyrant…the usual."

"So," Etean interrupted his flow, "Annabelle was arguing with Blaise this morning?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Nott passed up another open escape route, "that was me you heard…Annabelle was upset with me because I didn't take her side with Blaise."

"You took his side?"

Nott shrugged. "His side…her side…who cares. I wanted to stay out of it…she wasn't happy."

"I can imagine," Etean smiled sympathetically.

There was scattered applause from around them; Potter's little showcase appeared to be over. "Well done…well done!" Flitwick chimed at the top of his voice as they quartet of Gryffindors moved out to rejoin the others. "That was an excellent display Mr Potter…and you three others as well," he seemed to add as an afterthought. "Now then," he scanned the room, "Let me see, who shall we have nex…"

The bell interrupted him mid sentence.

"Oh dear," the tiny professor piped when silence returned. "It seems that time has run away from us yet again," he clapped his hands together, "Dismissed, everyone."

Etean turned to leave, following Nott out the door. He turned to his right, to head to the Great Hall, Nott however turned left. Etean stopped. "Not hungry?" he asked.

"Eh…no," was the uncertain sounding answer, "I just remembered that I haven't finished my potions essay. Snape will skin me alive if I don't hand it in on time."

Suspicion started to creep into Etean's mind; he wondered just what Nott was really up to. "Fair enough," Etean nodded goodbye and left. He hadn't got ten paces when Millicent appeared beside him and started nattering on about how happy she was not to have had to duel in class. Etean retreated, letting his mouth run on automatic to handle the conversation. His mind churned the Nott problem. He decided that Annabelle was the key that would unlock Nott's secrets. Etean need only figure out how to turn it.

He blinked suddenly when he realised that he was looking at a familiar scarlet head. Ginny didn't look too happy about something, in fact she didn't seem far from tears. "Hey," Etean said brightly, "What's up?" Ginny looked at him, then her eyes darted for a moment to Millicent. Etean turned to the Slytherin, who looked rather annoyed at the interruption to her ramblings. "Go on," he said, "I'll catch up."

Millicent scowled, then shook her head and walked away. Etean thought for a moment that he heard her swear under her breath. He chose to ignore the word 'weasel' amid the tirade. He looked back to Ginny, she was also scowling. "How do you put up with her?"

"Millicent?" he smiled, "She's not that bad."

"She's a Slytherin!" Ginny spat.

Etean drew back. "Is that so?" he fingered his house patch ceremoniously.

Ginny looked down, then frowned. "Yes, well," she looked up at him, "You're different."

"Am I?" Etean chose to take it as a compliment. He put his arm around her and attempted to lead her down toward the Great Hall. Ginny resisted. "What is it?"

"I have something for you," she said as she started to rummage in her bag.

"What?" Etean asked, curious.

Ginny found whatever she was looking for. "This," she said, drawing a burgundy envelope from her pocket and holding it out to him, "here."

Etean took it. It was a letter obviously, for him it seemed. He noted his name embossed in gold on the envelope, then turned it over and recognised the Ministerial seal on the reverse. 'This is not going to be good!' he thought to himself as he broke the seal. Inside was a single gilded card. Etean read:

_From the pen of C. Z. Fudge, the Minister of Magic for Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Perseus House, London._

_ To: Robert, the Lord d'Etean XVI_

_ It is the decree of The Ministry of Magic that, commensurate with this year, the Seventh of December shall henceforth be known throughout our territory as Remembrance Day, in memoriam of all those brave souls who have given their lives in the defence of this nation from its greatest enemy._

_To commemorate this sombre occasion, a monument is to be erected at the Headquarters of the Ministry of Magic. This marker will stand forever as a testament to our heroes' bravery even in the face of the greatest of peril._

_ It is the Minister's wish that a formal dedication ceremony take place at twelve noon on this, the first Remembrance Day, a time for all those who grieve to come together as one in solidarity and strength._

_ It is with solemn respect that the Minister extends an offer of invitation to you, your acceptance is anticipated._

_ Yours_

_ Cornelius Fudge (Minister)_

He read it again, then again. The seventh…that was next Friday. Certainly this was a hastily arranged little gathering, too hastily arranged. After a moment, he groaned. "What the hell does Fudge think he's playing at?"

Ginny looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"A memorial? In the middle of the war? Doesn't that strike you as a really bad idea?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "To tell you the truth, I hadn't really thought about it."

Etean could hear the veiled emotional distress in her voice, what was upsetting her? He re-read the card. '…_all those brave souls who gave their lives…_' 'Oh!' he thought. "You got one of these too didn't you?"

Ginny nodded. "Snape just delivered it. He dumped a load of them on me and ordered me to hand them out, saying that he was too busy."

Her voice was sounding really down now. Etean didn't need to guess why. "That was nice of him," he said sarcastically. Snape certainly seemed to have skipped the part of growing up that involved learning tact. "How many were there?"

"Not sure," she answered glumly, "maybe a dozen. Harry got one, so did Ron… Neville…Hannah…" she tailed off, "I gave most of them to Harry…the ones for the other Gryffindors, but I was surprised when I saw yours. Why did the Minister invite you? You haven't lost anyone to the war have you?"

'Haven't I?' the thought nearly scalded his forehead in an attempt to escape. Etean forced himself to calm down, Ginny was honestly curious. From her perspective, their was no reason for him being invited. The answer was of course, politics. There was more to this memorial than met the eye. This was clearly Minister Fudge's attempt to capitalise on Etean's assisting Dumbledore. Exactly what the Minister had in mind, Etean couldn't be sure, but he could guess. He idly wondered how long it would take for Renée Valjean's politely annoyed correspondence to arrive. Doubtless there was one on the way; a carefully worded reprisal for Etean's getting involved in his affairs that he actually had no official say in. Suppressing a curse, he looked at Ginny. "I'm not sure, but I have an idea," he shook his head, "It doesn't matter really I suppose. Are you going to go?"

"I don't think I have a choice, all my family will be there. What about you?"

Etean paused, for the first time considering this as a choice to be made. Fudge would certainly want him to attend; he'd probably soil himself if Etean refused. Dumbledore wouldn't ask, but he too would want Etean's help if it were possible. The Old Man may pass some comment about political wrangling not being what Etean was in Hogwarts to do, but really, what did it matter? There was precious little that could be achieved by this other than wasted words. 'Let's make this simple,' he thought. "Do you want me to go?" Ginny nodded. "Then I guess I'm going." 'That's about as simple as you can get.' The decision made, Etean pushed all other thoughts aside. He could return to his myriad of problems later, for now he had other things to worry about. Matters at hand took priority…he determined to get Ginny to laugh by the end of the day. Ginny was still resisting his attempts to steer her toward the Great Hall. "Aren't you going down for lunch?"

Ginny shook her head. "I still have a couple of those to deliver."

"How many?"

Ginny rummaged. "Three, but I have to find their owners first."

"You could probably do that easier in the Great Hall." From the look on her face, Etean surmised that Ginny was more than aware of that. He gave her a little squeeze. "Tell you what, why don't we have a private lunch just the two of us, then we can deliver the rest together?"

Ginny nodded and smiled weakly. "I'd like that."

* * *

The sight before Draco's eyes was about the most bizarre that he could remember seeing. A thousand garden gnomes were arranged in concentric rings, of which he was the centre point, and were busily and merrily dancing around. Each of them was waving a tiny black glove, ostensibly to taunt him. Draco had no idea where they had come from or what they wanted, but he knew that he wanted them to just leave him alone. It wouldn't have been so bad except for the singing. Their high pitched, grating voices were raised in a mighty chorus: 

_'What we took, you'll want back,  
But to catch us first will take a knack.  
We gnomes will run, we all shall hide,  
Till end of day, till break of pride._

_In our darkest hole, our safest place,  
We'll keep your mask and bare your face.  
To get your want, to reclaim our prize,  
First you'll beg with teary eyes._

_With Malfoy's hope, we now play,  
From rise of sun till end of day.  
His tears will dry, his cries will fade,  
Our joy will cut him like a blade.'_

Their words repeated over and over. The sound of their tiny voices was starting to grate on his nerves. He lashed out hard at the nearest one, then yelped as his head thudded against something solid that he hadn't seen coming.

"Ouch!" he grumbled incoherently. His head now hurt, but at least the singing had stopped.

"Are you alright?" Hermione's voice sounded from somewhere above him. Draco lifted his head and squinted. The light was suddenly very harsh on his eyes. As he blinked away the fuzziness, the shape of Hermione washed into focus.

"Mmmwhat?" he asked.

Hermione turned her attention back to her book. "You just head-butted the table, I asked if you were alright," she said in a half annoyed tone.

Draco frowned and looked around to get his bearings. He was in the library…which made sense seeing as how this was where he had been all afternoon, with Hermione, re-reading every text on dreams and prophesies that they could lay their hands on. Draco also noticed that they were alone. Madam Pince's desk wasn't visible from here and the few study tables that were, were empty. He rubbed his eyes and checked his watch. It was half past six, well into dinner time. They had been here all day? This had been intended as a distraction. Draco knew well that they weren't going to find the answer here amid this books, but he had needed time to think.

His mind retraced its steps, listing what he knew. Prophetic dreams – if that was truly what it had been – were rare, but not unheard of in the Wizarding World. Seers were a fact of life, they existed. They certainly had visions in dreams, on a regular basis according to what Draco had read about them, but, and it was a very big but, Hermione wasn't a Seer.

Seers were born gifted. The books had been very clear on that. The sight was a gift that you either had, or didn't have. It was not a skill you could learn, nor did it just pop up unannounced. Real Seers had the power to see 'the beyond' as they put it, from birth. Hermione had never shown a single sign of having it, or so she assured him. Draco, for the moment, was willing to believe that that was true, at least as far as she knew. It was vaguely possible that she had possessed the sight all along, but that she had never known it. Indeed, there were instances in recorded history when a Seer's power had lain dormant for a large chunk of their life, sometimes only surfacing on a couple of occasions. Again, there was a problem in that theory.

The only instances of emergent prescience that Draco had read about all involved the gift being inherited from the person's parents, and merely diluted in the younger generation. The trouble with that explanation was that Hermione's parents weren't Seers, they were dentists. Draco shook his head at the thought of anyone who seriously thought that digging holes in other people's teeth was a decent career. Dentists made no sense to him, but they weren't Seers, that much was certain. So, Hermione didn't inherit her gift, nor was she born with it, that left only two possibilities; either she was going insane, and this just happened to be a twisted co-incidence, or these dreams were a part of something else, and they just appeared to be visions.

Draco sighed, seeing as how he was determined not to let Hermione even begin to believe that she was going nuts, he had been left with the latter choice. The trouble was that she was a bright girl, scarily so at times. Convincing her that there was something else going on with her mind might have been possible, if he had had the slightest clue as to what it might be. The only viable solution was to seek help outside of the two of them. Hermione he knew would resist the idea so he had reasoned that he would have to do it without her knowledge. That left him wondering who to ask.

Dumbledore? He would be the obvious choice, but was he even in the school to be asked? Dumbledore seemed to be treating Hogwarts as a base camp lately, flitting in and out like an over excited honey bee. It was clear that the Headmaster had a hell of a lot of problems to deal with. In all realism, he really wouldn't be able to fit Hermione Granger's mental problems into his schedule.

Snape? Draco could picture his face as he considered assisting Hermione with a problem she couldn't solve. Snape might be able to help. Next to Dumbledore he was the most capable wizard in the school as far as Draco was concerned, but, he knew that Snape simply wouldn't be capable of lending any assistance without taking the opportunity to rub Hermione's nose in it a few times. Draco thought it best to spare her that particular pleasure.

Madam Pomfrey? What could she do except cluck her tongue and order her to take a sleeping draught? And he knew what Hermione's reaction to that would be.

Draco didn't really understand her fear of sleeping potions. He knew from personal experience that they could be very effective. She had explained that she feared being trapped inside her nightmares for hours on end. Draco didn't get that either, the potions were supposed to render dreams impossible. As though she was speaking to him, he heard her voice in his head.

'Oh yeah? And if they don't?'

Draco rolled the thought about. Hermione had been resolute. She couldn't bear the dreams for any more than a few minutes and she was not about to let herself get trapped in them. So, potions were out, Snape was out, Dumbledore was out. Who did that leave? Who else would know enough about dreams and the human mind to help? Draco sat up. 'Etean!' He couldn't believe it had taken him so long to figure it out. Etean peered and prodded into peoples' minds on a regular basis. If anyone knew of an explanation for these dreams, it would be him. Maybe he would even be able to help her control them. Draco made up his mind, Etean would have the answer. He shook himself fully awake and looked at the book in front of him. He recognised the passage as being the one he had been reading before…before the gnomes had appeared. He looked up at Hermione and yawned. She didn't look happy. "Sorry I fell asleep," he said sheepishly.

"You fell asleep?" Hermione asked dryly without looking up, "I can't say as I noticed." It sounded like a joke, but Draco didn't see her smile in the least. He didn't blame her, he was here supposedly helping her sort out the mess in her head, and here he was falling asleep. He decided not to mention the dream. Somehow his dreaming about gnomes, however odd they were behaving, didn't seem to be an appropriate topic of conversation today. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes again, forcing the last of the sleepiness from them before getting back to his book.

Draco blinked, the passage he had been reading was about gnomes, and about how they normally symbolised persecution in dreams. 'Right,' he thought, 'at least that explains why they were taunting me…but where the hell did that song come from?' Draco knew, without looking, that the book before him would have an explanation. He also knew, with total certainty, that the explanation would be so much hippogriff-shit. He scowled and shut the book hard. 'This is a waste of time!'

He paused to rub at his persistently sleepy eyes once more before looking up at Hermione. She was intently interested in the page before her. Draco didn't recognise the book from this angle, but that didn't matter. Hermione read like Goyle ate – quantity was the only measure that made any difference, each bite was treated as thought it were the last, and so was heartily wolfed down the gullet at great speed. He looked over at the stack of books beside her, and let out a silent whistle. 'How long was I out?' There was a stack of discarded books next to Draco that stood maybe two feet high, but Hermione had been busy. The pile of texts by her elbow started on the floor and rose above her so far that Draco had to crane his neck to see the top. The sight of it was staggering. It appeared to have been constructed with the aid of an architect and several, strong armed, labourers. Draco was at a loss to know how in Hades she had been able to reach the top. He wouldn't go so far as to call Hermione a midget, but at just past five foot five she was no giant. He was about to comment when she slammed the book shut and hefted it up.

Hermione tossed the bound volume over her head with no apparent regard for its flight path, or its inevitable collision with the top of her skull. Draco opened his mouth to comment, but Hermione didn't give him the chance. She didn't look up, but in a flash, her wand was in her hand and pointed upward. She uttered no incantation, but there was a slight crackling sound and the book froze in place. Hermione held it there without looking as she reached out with her free hand and grabbed the next book from the stack on the floor beside her. As she dropped it awkwardly onto the table, she twisted her wand hand slightly. The suspended volume rose higher and then, at another tiny twitch, moved over to settle neatly atop the tower. Draco stared agape as she calmly set her wand down and opened her new book. She must have seen him looking at her because she turned to him.

"What?" she asked.

Draco shook his head. "Nothing…I was just going to ask what you were reading."

Hermione paused for only a moment. "Durnings' Preparatia," she said simply.

Draco's brow knotted. Durnings was a potions master, and Preparatia was his seminal work. Why was Hermione studying potions? "I thought you didn't want to try any sleeping potions," he said as he stood up.

"I don't," Hermione replied, not looking up from the page before her as Draco moved in behind her, "But I'm not looking up sleeping potions," she paused and cocked her head slightly, "Well, maybe I am I suppose," she returned to her reading.

Draco waited for her to explain that one, but she didn't appear to be about to. He looked again at the tower of books, feeling the urge to step away lest they topple and crush him. He decided it was time for a break. Gently he laid both his hands on her shoulder, suppressing a shiver as he saw the bare metal on his hand exposed. Where was his glove? He couldn't remember. Hermione tensed at his touch and Draco instantly forgot his glove. His fingers slowly kneaded her shoulders, gently persuading them to relax. As she eased, Draco tugged her ever so slightly, drawing her back toward him.

"No," Hermione half heartedly protested, "Draco don't, I need to finish this."

"And you will," he bent down to kiss her on top of her head, "but you need a rest," he cast another sideways glance at the tower of tomes, "really."

Hermione let out a stifled groan and started to roll her head around, easing her neck muscles further into Draco's massaging fingers. "Well," she said dreamily, "maybe just for a minute…or two."

Draco smiled as he looked down at her face. "Whatever you say." He looked sideways at the stack of books again, this time taking the time to read their titles. He recognised a lot of them, having read most during the last few weeks, all divination or general dream study books. At about his eye height they changed and were replaced by potions books and bound treatises on ingredient procurement and preparation. Draco found that he didn't know half as many of them as he would have thought. Most of the potions reading he did were in texts that would not appear in any library, or if they did, it would be in a looney bin. Normal, boring potions books had never really interested him, they were all too mundane and safe. He preferred to brew potions where the result wasn't always known ahead of the event, it added an element of surprise to the process. So while he was familiar with the few better known ones, such as Preparatia, many of Hermione's choices were completely new to him. He frowned when he noticed the glaring red seal on some that meant that they had come from the library's restricted section, "How did you get these?" he asked without stopping his caressing of her neck.

"Hrmm?" Hermione sounded miles away.

"These books from the restricted section, how did you get them out without Madam Pince eviscerating you?"

Hermione lifted her right hand and interlocked her fingers with those of his left hand. "It wasn't that tough," she said as she slowly guided his fingers further from her neck until he was working her shoulder. He felt a huge knot in the muscle there and started to tease it out. "Most of the spells that protect those books are covered in the Standard Book of Spells – Grade Seven."

"Grade Seven? But we're only up to Grade Six."

Hermione leaned her head to the side. Draco saw a wry smile twist her lip. "This is me you're talking to, Draco, remember? Are you really surprised that I read ahead?"

"No," he laughed quietly, "I guess I'm not." He shook his head, "Seriously Hermione, do you have _any_ hobbies outside of reading?"

Hermione's head leaned back and she opened her eyes. Draco actually had to steady himself as he felt them tug him down toward her. "Lately I do," she smiled.

The smile on top of those eyes was too much for Draco. He arched his back and lowered himself down to kiss her. It felt strangely odd kissing in this posture, his upper lip pressed against her lower one while the upper sides of their tongues danced and tickled across one another.

Draco drew back. "I know which one I'd prefer."

"So do I," she smiled mischievously and sat forward again, not quite freeing herself from his grasp, "which is why it's really annoying when this arrogant, formerly blonde Slytherin keeps trying to distract me."

"Is that so?" Draco gave her shoulders a tight squeeze as punishment, getting a playful wince in response, he hadn't really hurt her. "Well then, allow me to put a stop to that arrogant distraction then." He stepped away but didn't get more than a foot before she was on him.

Her arms snaked around his neck and she grinned at him. "Who said you have a choice?" she asked, then stood on tip toes to kiss him again. Draco let his arms wrap around her as he returned her kiss, teasing her mouth open with his probing tongue. His left hand moved, unbidden, upward across her back. Hermione's body seemed to writhe with it as it traced the line of her spine. Her body arched and her hips and chest pressed into him. Draco had to check his stance as she transferred her weight from her feet to his. He had to flatten his right hand against her back in order to maintain his hold. The fingers of his left hand continued their trek. They left her back and tangled themselves in her hair. Draco felt thick strands of hair coiled around his wandering digits, he could feel his own heart pounding, he could feel her breath, in the moments when she could breathe, washing over his face and neck, he could fell her body pressed into him, pressing ever closer, he could feel her mouth, sweet and warm, he could even feel her pulse throbbing through her as she let her body lead her mind, lost in passion. That was all that Draco could feel, it was more than he needed, more even than he could bear. He felt his mind slide and settle, fading to a quiet, trancelike peace.

Hermione broke free and drew back. Draco's eyes slammed open, he only then became aware that he had closed them. He looked down at her as she settled back onto her own feet. She was grinning at him.

"Are you awake now?"

"Yes."

A slightly worried look crossed her face. "Good, because I need your help."

Draco frowned. "Isn't that what I'm doing here?"

"No," she scolded, "You were falling asleep." She poked him hard just under his ribs.

Draco recoiled. "I said I was sorry," he moved quickly to catch her wrist before she could continue her attack, "How about you just tell me what you want me to do."

"Well," she started to idly play with his tie, "You remember how I told you that I had a dream about you last night?"

"Yes," Draco answered emphatically. If he lived to be a thousand years old, he would never forget that conversation.

"Yeah, I did…it was a nice dream…quiet and peaceful. I slept better last night than I have in months."

"You're welcome," he grinned. Her fingers darted underneath his tie and tightened on his skin. Draco winced and shook her off, "Ok, ok…you were saying…"

"I was saying that I slept last night because I wasn't having nightmares. So I was thinking that if I could find a way not to have nightmares at night, then I'd sleep better, and then maybe be in a position to figure this mess out."

A smile twisted his lip. "So you want me to give you pleasant dreams?" He loaded the sentence with as much implication as he could, just to see her react to it.

Her face remained blank. "Yes, simply put, I do…though," now she smiled, "Not in the way you're thinking." She took him by the hand and led him toward the table. "I got the idea a while ago…you were snoring and it got me thinking. Something is making me have nightmares," a shiver ran through her, "and I don't think that I can avoid them by stopping my dreams altogether, but maybe I can just avoid them by having other dreams…better dreams." Draco paused as she sat down and started flicking through the potions book in front of her. "I found a reference to a potion in Preparatia, one that can trigger euphoric dreams, but which doesn't induce sleep…so even if it doesn't work, I'll be able to wake up," she seemed to be half talking to herself as she spoke. She stopped at a page and ran her finger down it, "Here we are, at last."

"Let me see if I'm following you," Draco said, pulling a chair out to sit next to her. "You want to brew a potion to give you happy dreams?"

"Yes," she beamed, "That's about the shape of it."

"So where do I come in?"

"Well," the unsure look crossed her face again, "Some of the brewing is really tough, it would be nice to have someone help me out and…some of the ingredients are pretty tough to come by. Some are," her voice was a whisper now, "some are even illegal."

Draco smiled. "And so you assume that I will be able to acquire them for you?"

"Yes," she nodded, still looking worried, "I was hoping you could…maybe…"

The look on her face was priceless. Draco honestly wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry looking at it. In the end he settled for a wry grin. "I see."

"It shouldn't be too tough," she dug out a piece of parchment from beneath the book and scanned it. "Most of them should be in the school, though I don't know…maybe Professor Snape…"

"Don't tell me you are going to just ask him."

She shrugged. "Actually I thought that you could. None of these are in the student store, or even in the locked cabinet in his office." Draco chose to file asking her how she knew what was in Snape's office store for a later time. Hermione chewed her lip. "Maybe he has some other supplies stored in the castle somewhere. We'd have to ask him. If I did it, then he'd be instantly suspicious, but…"

"You actually think he wouldn't be suspicious of me? He's seen me do more weird things with simple ingredients over the years than I can remember. If I start asking for all this stuff, he'll probably want to have me locked up as a menace to society."

Hermione sagged. "Well then we're sunk. Unless you know where to get mermaid tears," she handed him the page, "or any of those," she pointed to the list of ingredients, "without his help."

Draco had a fair knowledge of Snape's private ingredient catalogue. The Potion's Master had roped him into assisting him in an inventory only last year. Draco had suspected at the time that it was Snape's way of trying to entice Draco away from his father toward an academic life in potions. It had been an eye opening experience and no mistake. Some of the things that Snape had pugged away weren't so much illegal as they were unbelievable. The cocktails he had been able to dream up in just a few short hours. Draco smiled at the memory, and then got back to business. He searched his mind and dredged up what he could remember of the inventory. Snape did have some mermaid tears, and some dragon's blood and…probably most of the others too, if they were lucky. But Snape would never just give them out without a damned good explanation. He smiled. 'Assuming of course, we asked him.' He looked up at Hermione. "Are you sure you want to try this?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I don't think I have any other options."

'Apart from the one's you're ignoring.' Draco sighed internally. "Ok then, leave the shopping to me, I'll see what I can do."

Hermione leaned forward and kissed him again. "Thank you."

"Right then," he straightened up and read her notes, "What else do we need?" he looked at her, "I'm assuming that you want to keep this quiet?"

"I'd think that would be for the best don't you?"

"It's your call," he said. The potion was complex. Some of the ingredients in it were potions in their own right. With luck, Snape would have some of those already brewed for them to 'borrow,' but it was still a time consuming prospect. "This will take a while," he said thoughtfully.

"I know," Hermione answered, her head already buried in another book. "I'd say at least a fortnight…that's allowing until Thursday to get all the necessary ingredients, can we do that?"

Draco thought about it, why wait? "We can."

Hermione looked relieved. "Good…have you ever made Kneazle Broth?"

"No," Draco checked the list. Kneazle Broth was one of the key components.

Hermione sagged in her chair. "Damn," she said, "It says here that you need to brew it in moonlight on the winter solstice! That's weeks away."

Draco leaned forward and read the passage for himself. "Ah," he said. Hermione looked beaten. Draco reached out to her. "Now, don't give up…if it's that finicky to brew, the odds are good that Snape already has some lying around."

"You think so?"

Draco shrugged. "It's worth a shot…and since I'll be looking through his inventory anyway…" He squeezed her shoulder and smiled at her. "So come on," he said when she finally nodded, "Let's sort all this out and find out precisely what we need and when we need it."

* * *

Annabelle sat on Nott's knee, laughing aloud at Millicent's purile rendition of Professor Snape scolding Longbottom from earlier. Etean's outward expression was one of mild amusement. Internally, things were different. He was devoting as much of his attention as he could to Annabelle. Sure enough, as he had suspected, he could now see her memory of this morning's events playing out precisely as Nott had described, a row over his not backing her up with their quidditch captain. It was carefully balanced, totally convincing, and Etean had no doubt that she in fact would believe it was her memory, but it was a fake! Two facts existed to make that all but certain. The first was Draco. He had heard what really occurred, and Annabelle's memory didn't match his. One of them was wrong, it was that simple. The other problem put paid to any doubts that may have lingered as to which of them was wrong. Blaise, sitting alone and isolated in his little corner, also had no memory of a row with Annabelle since before the match. Nott's little cover up hadn't included him. 

Blaise was a wrinkle in Nott's plan, and Etean was sure that Nott knew that. The fact that he kept eyeing him warily when he thought Etean wasn't watching made that clear. Nott was obviously playing on his own lie, hoping it had convinced Etean, and that he simply wouldn't ask Blaise about it. Etean hadn't decided whether he would or not, not yet. There were other things in Annabelle's pretty blonde head that held his attention. Actually there was nothing, which was the interesting thing. The human memory is a tapestry, woven by experience; one event is followed by the next in a continual flow. That flow should be constant, the only interruptions being sleep, dreams more often than not being excluded from the conscious memory. Annabelle's mind was full of gaps, wide, gaping holes in her memory that Etean could find no explanation for. There was no trace of memory alteration, which could usually be seen as an incongruity, a jump in the flow of the memory where the alteration had occurred. What Etean saw was nothing like that. There were periods of Annabelle's recent life that were simply missing.

Several explanations presented themselves. This could be the result of an injury such as a concussion. Annabelle rolled forward, clutching her stomach in a fit of giggles…she certainly wasn't concussed. She could be insane…that option persisted, a mental schism or nervous breakdown could account for this, but there were none of the other symptoms for that either. Etean shook his head, he would need to watch her carefully, if another gap appeared he might get a better handle on things. Damn his head hurt! He stood up, excused himself from the others and left. His left temple was throbbing. How long had it been since he had taken his potion? He couldn't recall, which struck him as a bad sign. Once on the stairs, he paused in the darkness to slow his mind. He took several deep breaths and steadied his nerves. His hand came to his mouth, already holding the potion that he didn't remember conjuring. He scowled, but only partly at the taste. It was all this political nonsense that was really annoying him. True to his earlier surmise, Renée Valjean's little note had arrived with the afternoon owls:

'_…I was most perturbed to receive such a correspondence hand delivered by an Etyar Captain. If my lord had wished to be appraised of my whereabouts and current obligations, it would have taken no more than a standard inquiry. I must assure you that any correspondence from my lord Etean would not have gone unattended by my staff…_'

'_…As it is clear from my lord's conveyance of the message that my lord has developed a rapport of sorts with certain elements of the British administration, I have endeavoured to support my lord by entering into the requested dialogue._

_I was somewhat bemused to hear of the intended gathering to commemorate the fallen of this war, and was similarly surprised to find that my lord was to be amongst those who would be in attendance…_'

'_…personal reasons for attending, and my dear friend Albus also implored on me to attend. The timing of this ceremony should, I am glad to say, not interfere with my other obligations. It should in fact provide us with an opportunity to formalise matters re the recent alterations to the role of the Etyar in fulfilling my lord's pledge to serve the nation…_'

'_…I anticipate my lord's audience,_

_ Renée_

_ Directeur, le Département de Sécurité Étrangère_'

So, Renée was going to be at this ceremony? The final piece of Fudges plan fell into place. He wanted Etean to be present and argue his side when he was trying to wrangle a deal out of the elusive Frenchman. The note tucked into his pocket was the primary cause for his headache, he told himself as he crushed the goblet out of existence. He needed a rest, time to let his head settle. He couldn't sleep with all this noise in his skull, but maybe he could stay quiet for a while and catch his breath. Maybe he could slip quietly outside and take off for a while. Everyone in the school knew he could change now, so he didn't even have to hide it. Still, there was a problem, it was a little late, and eagles, even animagus wizard eagles, did not enjoy very good night vision, nature tending them toward high precision day vision. There were ways around that, if he flew high enough, the lack of good vision wouldn't be a problem – there weren't any trees or anything to collide with amongst the clouds.

He was lost in the thoughts of soaring over the sleeping Scottish countryside when he reached the door to his bedroom and stopped; someone was inside. Etean paused. Draco wasn't in the dorm, he was somewhere in the castle, looking after his bitch, and the two idiots were in the Common Room. He paused in silence to listen, yes there was definitely someone in there and based on the far off quality of the sound, they had placed a not too effective silencing charm on the door.

Etean rocked his neck to loosen the muscles. He sent a preparatory crackle of energy down along his fingers before he reached up and slowly pushed the door open.

Etean stepped inside, once past the silencing charm, the full noise of the room's interior slammed into him. His skull echoed the noise. 'Damn it!' Etean surveyed the scene. Someone had torn the room apart, well Draco's corner of it at least. Draco's trunk lay open and emptied on the middle of the floor. His spare robes and books were scattered about in tatters around it. The drawers of his locker were strewn across the floor, covered by their contents. Draco's bed had been ransacked; the curtains had been torn free and were hanging by the merest of threads. The quilt and sheets had been hurled back and the mattress slashed and shredded. Draco's pillows were nowhere in sight. Someone was searching this room, and based on the noise, they were still here.

Etean extended his senses to locate the intruder…the bed! Muffled grunts and hisses were escaping from beneath it. Whoever it was, was lying underneath it and they had yet to hear him. He turned without a noise and headed toward the bed. As he rounded the corner, he saw the edge of a dark set of school robes on the floor. A slight touch of the intruder's mind revealed their identity. Etean sighed.

"Repulset!" he said clearly, pointing his right index finger at the bed. With a tiny flick, the spell shot out and hit the bedpost. The four-poster rocked slightly, just enough to let Pansy know that he'd seen her. The noise stopped. Pansy didn't move.

"Are you comfortable down there?" he asked.

There was a mad scramble and Pansy emerged from the shadows, she spun onto her knees and looked around rapidly. "Is Draco with you?"

Etean narrowed his eyes at her. "No," he said, casting his eyes once more across the carnage. "What were you doing down there?"

Pansy snarled and hopped to her feet. "Searching, what does it look like?"

"Searching for what?" he let an edge of annoyance creep into his voice.

"None of your business," Pansy snapped. She made to storm out past him, but Etean took a step and slammed his fist into the bedpost, barring her way with his arm.

He glared at her. "I don't think you're going to be leaving until you've explained yourself, Parkinson. At the very least not until you've cleaned this mess up."

Pansy looked at him for several moments, then shrank beneath his gaze. She took a step back and dug into her pocket. "Here," she said morosely as she stuffed something into his hand.

Etean looked down. It was a scrap of parchment, torn from the corner of a scroll by the look of it. He turned it over and read:

'_Kiss me Draco!_'

He held it up to Pansy. "And just what the hell is this supposed to be?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Pansy snapped. She reached out and snatched the parchment from his hand. "It has to be something…it just has to be."

"It looks like a note to me," Etean said. "You leaving love notes for Draco now?"

"I am not," she snapped, "and even if I was…he wouldn't care…because of her…because of this," she balled the note up in her fist. Pansy shoved him back, "Do you know what this is?" she brandished the note at him.

Etean snarled, he was not in the mood for this, "Parkinson…"

"It isn't just a note," she yelled, "I found this under Draco's pillow. Granger put this here…and it…it did something to him…made him go crazy or something."

Etean felt his features stretch in amazement. "Are you serious?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Pansy raved, "I mean…I knew, I just knew that she'd done something to him, why else would he be willing to…gods I can't even say what he's willing to do with her."

Etean was far too stunned to argue. "So, you are saying that Granger snuck into this dormitory and put that note, which I am assuming that you are saying is enchanted in some way, under Draco's pillow to make him fall for her?"

"I know what you're going to say," Pansy wagged a finger at him, "You're going to say that it isn't possible, that Granger couldn't have gotten in here through all of us, through the password. But," a manic smile came to her face, "That's what she's relying on. That everyone will underestimate her,"

"It does sound like a bit of a stretch, Pansy," Etean remarked coldly.

"Don't think that she couldn't do it…she's been the brains behind Potter's little escapades for years."

Etean rolled his eyes. His contact with her mind was light, but it was enough to let him see that she was being serious, she really believed this. It was nearly comical. He kept his face stern. "I see. The question of course…the one that springs to mind for me at least is…why?"

"Why?"

"Exactly why. Why would Granger go to such trouble just to get to Draco? Surely she couldn't be that hard up."

"I don't know what her plans are…yet. But don't you see it? She wanted Draco for some reason…and she got him. She knew that I wouldn't just let him go, so she attacked me," a visible shiver ran through her, "We have to stop her before she goes too far."

Etean balked. "We?"

"Yes," Pansy moved forward toward him, "I can't do it alone…Granger is too powerful…too smart for me to take her down on my own. But if you help me…"

"You need help, Pansy," Etean said, shaking his head. "Professional help, and I don't think that I'm qualified to give it to you."

"No, please, listen to me," Pansy was sounding really shaky now, "None of the others will believe me…they've all been blinded by her goody two shoes act for too long. They wouldn't believe me, even now that I have the proof…"

"Proof? What proof?" Etean rolled his eyes. "All you've got is a note, Pansy, a scribble on a bit of parchment that Draco decided to keep under his pillow."

"Yeah," she roared wildly, "That doesn't seem odd to you?"

"No…it sounds ridiculously soppy, pathetic even, but there isn't anything sinister about it. Now listen Pansy, I really don't want to be rude or anything," he said, shedding the last shreds of his patience, "but I am tired. So if you could maybe take your moaning elsewhere…" he pointed at the door.

"Moaning? Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"It sounds like it to me."

Her face twisted in apparent distress. "I am trying to protect him."

'This girl is unbelievable!' "From what? From Granger? Please don't make me laugh."

Pansy moved forward with surprising speed. "You're not listening to me, are you? You have no idea what she can do…what she did to me," she was roaring into his face now.

That was it. Etean caught her by the shoulders and turned her round, slamming her into the bedpost quite a bit harder than he intended. "Now you listen to me you squirming little wench. I have had just about enough of you and your whimpering. Draco dumped you…get over it. He's with Granger now, and that's his choice. And I'm fairly certain that she hasn't done anything to him that he wasn't more than willing to let her do. You don't have to like it, you don't have to understand it, but from now on, I'll thank you to keep your mouth shut about it when I'm around."

He released the stunned Pansy and regained his composure before he leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Oh and one more thing…if Granger is as dangerous as you seem to think she is, and frankly I find the idea laughable, then I would do my best to stay out of her way if I were you."

Etean tugged the note from Pansy's fingers and stepped back. He cast an eye around the room. "Now," he said over the renewed thumping in his skull, "leave…and please, in future, stay out of this room." His voice was tired as he finished, but Pansy jumped as though she'd been electrocuted. She turned and high tailed it out of the room. Etean swallowed a curse and conjured his potion. He drained it before he remembered that this was the second time in an hour he'd needed it. First politics, now Pansy…and Granger…this was not shaping up to be his day. He looked at the scrap of parchment in his hand. "Why won't you just leave me alone?" he whispered. With a flick of his wrist and a whispered, "Scourgify," he sent all of Draco's belongings flying back to their rightful places. He returned the note to his pillow and drew the curtains back into place a full three seconds before Draco entered.

* * *

Draco marched down the dungeon corridor slowly, staring at his hand. It felt naked without the glove. He had returned to where he had left it only to find it gone, the house elves must have taken it away. That wasn't really a problem though; he could always dig out another glove. His problems were numerous, but right now one was holding his attention. He had just promised to break into Snape's private ingredient stores – stores that nobody but him was supposed to even know about – and lift several hundred galleons worth of rare and possibly dangerous ingredients. If he were caught, it would quite probably mean detention, possibly worse depending on Snape's mood. 'But,' he thought, 'fuck it. It isn't the first time I've snuck around behind his back to brew a potion, and it isn't like we could come up with a better idea.' 

It would take timing, and a good chunk of luck, but he could pull it off. Draco reached the entrance to the Common Room and spoke the password. He stuffed his hand into his robe pocket before he entered. About a dozen Slytherins were scattered about the Common Room. Annabelle gave him a sneer before turning her attention to Theodore for a quick snog. He got a few sideways glares from the others too. Draco shook his head,

"Anyone seen Etean?" he asked.

The sixth years all ignored the question, feigning that they didn't hear. Draco raised himself onto his toes in aggravation. He was about to repeat the question at a decidedly louder volume when he heard a slight cough from his right. He turned to see the upward looking face of a tiny, brown haired first year girl. She was visibly paling as she looked up at him, but she held his gaze and pointed a shaking finger toward the bedroom stairs. "I think," she said in a mousy whisper, "that he went down to his bedroom about twenty minutes ago."

Draco stared at the tiny face for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you…" he paused, "What is your name?"

The girl coughed. "Heather," she answered, "Heather McQueen."

"Thank you, Heather," Draco answered and walked off. He knew without looking that the other sixth years were all watching him go, and that the girl, Heather, had just made herself a target for some of the things that they would never dare say to him. He made a mental note to keep an eye on her, she had guts…or was completely stupid.

He descended the stairs to his bedroom. As he neared his floor, he saw a shadow whip past him and disappear into the girls dorm. He frowned and opened the door. Etean was pacing the floor. "There you are," Draco said.

Etean looked up. His face looked paler than usual. His shoulders were hanging a bit, as though he was carrying a great weight. "You were looking for me?"

He seemed surprised. "Yes, I was."

His voice remained hollow and dry. "I thought you were off somewhere with Granger."

Something in Etean's tone struck a chord with Draco. "Is something wrong?"

Etean shrugged. "What could be wrong?"

"Well," Draco faltered, "You just look like you have a lot on your mind, that's all."

Etean's laugh was a hoarse bark. "A lot on my mind? You could say that. Would you like to hear what's on my mind?"

Draco frowned, Etean had never volunteered to share information before. "Ok then, try me."

Etean took a breath. "Here goes. Let me list my current problems for you. On the one hand we have the war, which is spinning out of control. Unless something is done and fast, there won't be anything left of this country for you, or anyone else to call home. Then there is Voldemort, who is getting stronger by the day; Dumbledore, who seems determined that I should do his dirty work for him; the Minister of Magic, who seems to possess all the military acumen of a stoned goldfish; the Council, who would rather continue debating the morality of this war until they drop dead of old age than actually fight to end it…Let's see, what else, I know there's more…oh yes; we have Theo Nott, a semi-psychotic sadist with serious women issues; and, last but not least, you, the lovesick pureblood on whom the fate of the world resides! Now, glad you asked?"

Draco reeled. His mind was struggling to process all of that information. Etean was juggling all of that? And Draco thought his life was tough. After a few moments of silence, Etean cleared his throat. "I'm sorry Draco," he rubbed at his temple. Draco recognised the sign of a severe headache, a phenomenon he was all to familiar with. He hadn't seen Etean get them before though. Etean straightened up. "What did you want?"

"Well I was…" Draco started, but the look on Etean's face stopped him, "I had some questions…but I suppose they can wait. I'll…see you later."

Etean nodded at him. Draco turned and left. He would ask Etean later, when he was better rested. Seeing Etean like that actually made Draco feel good. At least it was proof that he was human.

_A/N: Here you are my pretties, a nice little treat for Paddy's day, a bit late, but meh  
_


	47. Shopping, Draco Style

"Dreams?" Etean looked up at Draco. "What about dreams?"

Draco turned and walked slowly over to the table and sat down. "I just wanted to know if you knew anything about abnormal dreams…you know…ones that mean something?"

Etean shrugged. "All dreams mean something, Draco."

Draco spun at his words. "Really?" He sounded shocked.

Etean rubbed his temple, though his head was thankfully free of pain today. "Yes," he said, curious as to the point of this discussion and wondering if it was just a delaying tactic to buy Draco a couple of minutes more freedom from his training, "Though mostly its just silly stuff, like if you dream about money it means you want to get rich, or you are rich and don't like it…basically it means that money is on your mind. The same is true for most other things that people dream about."

Draco seemed to consider this slowly. "And what about when you dream about something that hasn't happened yet, or that happened to someone else a long time ago…something that you had no way of knowing."

"Are you talking about prophecy dreams?"

Draco blanked, and then nodded. "Yes, I suppose I am."

Etean mulled it over; he had no idea what had brought this on, but he was willing to humour Draco for now. "Prophesy Dreams…I can't say I am an expert or anything, but I have heard of them. What exactly do you want to know?"

"Well first off, what causes them?"

"Causes?" Etean scratched his head. "I don't know if anything causes them per say. So far as I know, some people are just born with the tendency to have them."

Draco snarled in the back of his throat. "That's what the books say, Etean, I was looking for more."

"More?"

"Yes, I was hoping that you…that the Circle would know more about how they work."

Etean tried to put his thoughts in order. 'How prophesies work?' "Well," he said thoughtfully, "there are theories…they haven't ever been proven though."

"What are they?"

Etean paused to recall all the details he could remember. "Well, as I understand it, the most plausible theory that we have works like this: Ethereal magic is pervasive; it affects all points in space no matter how remote. Currents and flows in the Ether, such as we can perceive, trigger changes and reactions in space that in turn trigger events at other points." To illustrate his point, Etean flicked the golden coin he was holding into the air and then caught it at the apex of its flight. "What happens here," he moved his hand, "can have an effect there," the coin moved as though he was holding it on his palm.

Draco scowled. "Show off."

Etean smiled and tugged the coin back to his hand. "Practice makes perfect," he piped, just to annoy Draco.

"Keep talking." The Slytherin scowled.

Etean pocketed the coin. "Now, as you have seen, magic can affect time as well as space. So there is no reason…theoretically speaking…that currents shouldn't exist in time too. Ripples in time if you will, what happens today can affect what happens tomorrow…or yesterday."

Draco frowned. "Tomorrow is the same as yesterday?"

"From one perspective, yes. Tomorrow, yesterday…last Tuesday, it's all the same from a magical standpoint. The proponents of this theory explain prophetic visions and images of the future as the result of ripples in time transferred through the Ether. In the same way as you can feel the world around you, some people are sensitive to these temporal ripples and they perceive their reaction in the form of images…words…or visions if you want to call them that."

Draco screwed his face as he listened. "Do you follow this theory?"

Etean shook his head. "It's all too woolly for me. There is yet to be a single shred of proof that these 'time ripples' even exist," he shrugged, "That is the most concrete explanation for the 'sight' though, so take it or leave it."

"So Seers can be trained?"

"No," Etean shook his head, "they can't."

"But," Draco was clearly straining to follow this, "if it's just a matter of sensitivity, why can't they? I mean, you trained me to be sensitive to ripples in space easily enough…"

"You're saying it was easy now?" Etean asked with a grin.

Draco winced. "No," he said hurriedly, "But you know what I mean…I suppose what I really want to know is: What is it that makes Seers sensitive in the first place?"

Etean shrugged. "What chooses the colour of your eyes? What is it that decides how tall you are, or whether you're left or right handed? It's just a matter of how you were born."

Draco seemed to shrink in apparent defeat. "So you do have to be born with the sight then?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"And there really isn't any other way to get it?"

Draco seemed to be labouring this point. Etean was puzzled. "How do you mean?"

"Well, when I started this training, you changed my mind…made me sensitive to things I wasn't aware of before."

Etean was still at a loss as to where this was going. "True, so…"

"So," Draco seemed to be thinking very hard, "is it possible…I mean, could you have made me sensitive to those kinds of visions while you were at it?"

'What?' "You're having visions?"

Draco shook his head. "No, I was just wondering if it was possible, that's all."

Etean rocked on his heels, thinking. Draco certainly was in an odd mood. "No, it isn't."

"Why?"

"Short version…the change is too big. I would have had to completely rebuild your brain – killing you in the process more than likely, and even then there wouldn't have been any guarantee that it would work. There are several known neural configurations that are sensitive to temporal effects…visions," he clarified, "Exactly why they are sensitive is open for debate, there contradictions in every explanation that I've ever heard…divination it isn't what you'd call an exacting science…Look Draco, what the hell is all this about?"

Draco lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Hermione."

Etean's jaw tightened. "Granger?" 'Again?' He couldn't get away from that girl these days.

"Yes," Draco didn't appear to have picked up on Etean's tone. Etean forced himself to settle. "She's been having nightmares."

'No shit!' "Really?"

"Yes," Draco sighed, "she's a mess."

'Eyes in the dark,' the thought sailed, unbidden into Etean's mind. He pulled back, drawing away from any contact with Draco out of reflex. This topic of conversation was tough enough as it was; he didn't need any stray thoughts getting in the way. Etean replayed the conversation, looking at it from a new perspective. He frowned. "Granger is having visions?"

"It seems so…"

That did come as a surprise to Etean. 'Visions? What the hell…' "What kind of visions?"

"I'm not really sure to be honest. I mean she described them to me, but it didn't seem to make much sense to tell you the truth."

'Visions?' the question repeated over and over in his head. "And you're sure they're real?"

"What do you mean?" he got suddenly defensive, "She isn't just making this up or anything if that's what you're implying."

"No," Etean shook his head, "I meant; how do you know that her nightmares are really visions? From what I heard, those kinds of dreams aren't normally very clear."

"You want clear?" Draco stuffed his fingers into his mouth and tugged his glove free, "How's this? I've kept this unsightly thing hidden from everyone but she knew about it all the same. She saw it in a dream the other night, described it to me down to the last detail. She even saw how it happened…and I know that she wasn't there that night. You can't get any more clear than that, can you?"

Etean suppressed a startled whistle. "No…I don't think you can."

"So what do you think?"

Etean was jerked suddenly out of his reverie. "What are you talking about?"

"Can you help me?"

"Help you? How?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "What do you think I have been talking about?"

"I'm still trying to work that out, Draco. What exactly do you want me to help you with?"

"I want you to help me help Hermione."

"How?"

"I don't know…I was hoping you did. Is there something…some way to…oh I don't know…block those ripples or something…prevent them from affecting her."

Etean paused, momentarily considering attempting what Draco was suggesting. He was all but certain that it wasn't possible. There was a chance that he was wrong; he had always believed that anything was possible. In the end however, the thought of trying and of spending the necessary time and effort on Granger made his throat clench. He groaned slightly as his temples started to throb. "I don't think so."

"You mean you can't do it?"

"I mean I don't know, Draco, I wouldn't know where to begin, or even if it can be done at all."

"Can't you at least try?"

Etean took a breath. He had to physically resist the urge to conjure his potion; he couldn't get too dependent on that stuff. "Look, Draco, seriously, I…understand that this is important to you and I know that that this is going to be hard for you to understand, but Granger isn't my problem. I really can't afford to devote my time to her right now…there's too much going on that has to take precedence."

"You're saying she isn't important enough?"

Etean was actually trying not to scream. "That's about the size of it…yes."

"And that's it?" Draco drew himself up. "That's your last word and I just have to accept it?"

"Afraid so," Etean paused. He needed to placate Draco before he lost his temper. "Look, I'll…I'll give it some thought. I might be able to think of something and if I do, I'll let you know. But until then, I'm afraid you and Granger are on your own."

"It certainly appears so, doesn't it?"

Etean rubbed his temple. He was suddenly in no mood to train tonight, and he suspected that Draco wasn't either.

Draco looked at him. "Listen, I'm a little tired for training, so do you mind if we skip it?"

Etean looked sternly at him. "We probably shouldn't," he said in a flat tone, "But one night isn't going to make that much of a difference…I want you to practice though, on your own."

"Fine," Draco shot over his shoulder as he disappeared out of the door.

Etean frowned at the closing portal. 'Granger is having visions?' He snarled. "Duncan," he roared at the top of his lungs, "What did you do to the girl?"

* * *

Draco fixed his hair in the mirror and straightened his tie. Mentally he was taking this time to prepare himself for the night's work ahead. What he was about to do was difficult, but not impossible. He refused to allow himself to think of the consequences were he to be caught. Apart from the straight forward threat of punishment for rule breaking, there was also Professor Snape's personal reaction to consider. The Potions Master coveted his secrets, and he was not someone to be trifled with, but, if Draco did this right he would never be any the wiser, and Draco was going to do this right. Planning, it all came down to planning. Draco had planned tonight's little excursion down to the last detail…at least he hoped he had.

He mildly wondered where Hermione was. She had been nagging him something awful for the last two days about when he was going to set about getting her the ingredients he had promised her. Draco had lost count of the bizarre ideas and schemes she had dreamt up in order to pull this off. At one point she had even suggested she pick a fight in the Great Hall with Pansy by way of a distraction…he hadn't been able to keep a straight face when he'd heard that one, though the scene he pictured in his head did have a certain appeal. Thoughts of seeing two nubile, fifteen year old girls screaming and pulling each others hair out over him stirred something primitively male in his psyche.

All the same it was a bad idea. Apart from Draco's suspicion that Pansy would win the fight (she would fight dirty), the spectacle of the thing simply wasn't necessary. What Hermione didn't seem understand was that if one had to do something underhanded in Hogwarts, it was better done quietly. Draco didn't blame the girl, subterfuge just wasn't her forte. Years of hanging around with her overachieving playmates had ruined whatever real deviousness she might once have possessed. In the end, he had left her to arrange a venue for the actual brewing of this infernal potion. He shuddered to think of what arrangements she would come up with, but he'd cross that bridge later. Draco mentally checked his plan again, making careful note of the timing of the various stages. The precision of it all made him smile. To hear Potter or the Weasel boy talk, late night adventures in the castle were a chaotic rollercoaster of mishap and lucky escapes. His stomach turned instantly queasy when he remembered listening to them rabbit on about their exploits time and time again. Potter and Co never seemed to realise that their bravado was the precise reason that they got caught more often than not, whereas Draco's escapades, and they weren't few, had largely gone unnoticed. Draco preferred not to get caught, and that meant being quiet and precise. To Draco, breaking rules in Hogwarts was not merely a matter of rebellion or childhood mischief, nor was it to be taken lightly and enjoyed for the hell of it. Skulduggery was an art, meant to be taken slowly and carefully, to be savoured and appreciated.

Draco lifted his empty bag and set it on his desk. He opened the second drawer from the top and took out the bundle of equipment he had prepared earlier for this evening. He resisted the urge to check the bundle, everything was there…he had checked and re-checked it dozens of times. Draco put the bundle into his bag and then chose a couple of books, nothing heavy, just enough to camouflage the bag's real contents. The packaging was magically enhanced to be extra strong, so he had no fear of damaging any of the containers inside. He added his quill and some parchment to complete the package and slung the bag over his shoulder. His gaze drifted to the clock. It was two minutes past eight. 'One minute to go,' he thought as he turned and picked up his cloak. He had no intention of using it, but it didn't hinder him to wear it. 'And you never know what unforeseen circumstances may occur.' He seated the cloak over his head and righted his hair again. He double checked his pockets to make sure he had his wand and the list of ingredients he needed as he watched the seconds tick down. 'Thirty two…thirty one…Rule number One: Plan everything down to the last second if possible. Seven minutes to get to the Great Hall, two minutes to check things out, then five minutes fight or flight time before its on to stage two…fifteen…fourteen…' The only sound in the room was the slow rhythm of the clock, ticking its way down, 'Three…two…one.' Draco spun on his heel and marched out of the room.

He walked, without hurrying, down the stairs and passed unacknowledged through the Common Room. The door clicked shut behind him. Draco paused momentarily to check the corridor…nobody in sight. 'Perfect!' He turned and headed down the corridor, measuring the click of his heels on the stone to keep his pace even. Next came the stairs, he passed a prefect on his climb but ignored her. This wasn't after hours, so there was no reason why Draco shouldn't be walking the castle. There were forty-seven steps to the Entrance Hall. Draco reached the top and paused, the Hall was deserted…'Still perfect.' He checked his watch; the journey had taken him precisely six minutes and fifty three seconds. He smiled and turned to casually stroll around the edge of the entrance hall, making a point of examining the trophies and drapes as he passed. If anyone saw him now, they would assume that he was merely waiting for someone. They would be free to make any presumptions they liked about who.

One minute and fifty eight seconds later, he was outside the doors of the Great Hall. Now was the hinge point. All that remained of his plan relied on what was underway inside the Great Hall. This time was important. If there was any commotion in the castle that could get in his way, he'd have to pick up on it now. Rule number Two: Always leave the back door open. He had, there was nothing stopping him walking away from this plan at any time. Draco had timed his excursion to coincide with the First Year Duelling Club meeting that was scheduled for tonight. By now it should be in full swing and keeping Snape well and truly occupied, but he had to make certain. If Snape wasn't occupied, there was a chance that he'd catch Draco out of sheer dumb luck. Draco pushed the door ajar. Everything depended on what was going on inside.

The bustle from inside was precisely as he expected, the loud clamour of about fifty eleven year old wizards and witches milling about. Draco waited as a round of applause broke out. Now Snape would be calling them to order.

"Alright, settle down…settle down." Draco's heart leapt into his throat. That wasn't Snape's voice. Draco strained to hear. He couldn't make out the owner, but the voice was female. Draco's mind scattered. If Snape wasn't running the meeting, who was? And more importantly, where the fuck was Snape? He checked his watch…his allotted five minutes decision time had dwindled to four minutes and twenty seconds. Swearing under his breath, he pushed the door open and slipped inside. He hoped that he could remain unnoticed while he figured things out.

The first thing he noticed once inside was the identity of the person running the meeting. To his surprise, it was a student. Cho Chang was standing at the referee's platform, counting down to another duel. Draco frowned; there was no sign of Snape anywhere in the hall.

"Three…two…one," Cho counted and the duel was on. The two duellists hesitated for a moment and then moved. Both of them awkwardly cast the same charm, 'Expelliarmus,' at one another, but neither hit their target.

"No…no…no," Draco jumped as Etean's voice bellowed out across the room. His head appeared amidst the crowd. He must have been sitting at the platform to watch the duel. Now he hopped up onto the table and marched toward the Hufflepuff boy at the nearer end to Draco. He didn't sound happy. "How many times do you want me to tell you? Keep your arm level when you cast the charm or else Merlin knows what you'll end up hitting."

The fair haired boy nodded rapidly and opened his mouth to explain himself, but Etean wasn't waiting. He commanded the boy to stand ready and cast the spell again, this time catching him mid swing and correcting his posture for him. Etean had the boy repeat the move over and over several times before he was satisfied. He looked over to where Cho had been giving the other boy a similar lecture.

She looked up and nodded, "Ok then," she said aloud, "let's see if you can't do it better this time." Cho returned to her place at the lectern. Etean caught Draco's eye with a quizzical look before he dropped off the table and headed toward him. Draco would have preferred not to have so much attention drawn to his presence, but he needed to know where Snape was, and Etean might be able to tell him.

Etean's refusal to get involved with Hermione's difficulties had been a surprise. But Draco was more than aware of just how much he was currently dealing with, so he had decided to let it go. He hadn't told Etean about this plan, or about the potion for that matter. There was no real reason for the secrecy, if Etean wanted to he could lift the information right out of Draco's head. Draco knew though, that Etean would see this as a risk that Etean wouldn't approve of him taking. Maybe he was right, maybe this didn't fit into the big picture, but when it came to it, it just wasn't Etean's business. He didn't want to help him, but Draco would be damned if he would let him get in the way. This was for Hermione. Draco didn't know where he'd be without her, and he was going to help her if he could. The potion was the only possible solution that they had for the moment, and Draco had committed to helping her make it.

Draco schooled his features to an expression of honest curiosity. The duel commenced behind Etean as he parted the sea of first years before him. Draco noted that both participants seemed to have a better grasp of what they were doing now. This time they disarmed one another, causing a ruckus of laughter. Etean turned back to the scene for a moment, before laughing and turning to face Draco.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just taking a walk." Draco didn't care if Etean went snooping in his head. He was talking for the benefit of whoever might be listening. 'Paranoia, the key to a scoundrel's survival,' he thought. "Where's Snape?"

Etean rolled his eyes. "Oh, he's in Liverpool I think…he may have said Luton, I'm not sure," was Etean's audible answer. 'What makes you so curious?'

"Oh right, so you got lumbered playing teacher again then?" Draco answered with a smile. 'I was just wondering…the precise location of the Potion's Master is a concern for me right now. Can we leave it at that?'

"Yes," Etean shook his head, "It's good to be me." 'As you wish.'

Draco checked his watch; he had two minutes to decide, go or stay. 'You're sure he isn't in the castle?' he asked as the next duel was called.

Etean made a show of an appraising applause. 'Certain, I watched him fly off on his broom myself.'

'Good enough.' Draco set his mind and he was going ahead with this. Snape might return early, but the odds of him checking his secret potion store when he did were really slight. "I'll see you later," he said, patting Etean on the shoulder. He was halfway through his turn when he stopped. The next duelling pair included a certain Slytherin that caught Draco's attention. The brave little Heather girl was clambering with a little difficulty onto the platform. She took her position and bowed to her opponent – a ruddy faced Gryffindor that Draco thought he knew as Derek something. Cho ordered them to their positions and they stood ready.

"Three…two…one…go!"

Derek cast a tickling charm at Heather. The little Slytherin squealed and jumped aside. She landed on one foot, but managed to level her wand at her opponent. She cast the disarming charm, which her opponent wasn't quick enough to avoid.

"Hey!" Draco hissed as Derek's wand flew through the air and dropped out of sight.

"Friend of yours?" Etean sounded interested.

"What?" Draco asked.

"The kid…Hannah …"

"Heather."

"Heather then, is she a friend of yours?"

Draco shrugged and was about to answer when Heather gave a startled yelp. Apparently she had been standing a little closer to the edge of the platform than she had thought, and in her celebrations of victory, she had stumbled over the edge. She disappeared from view and Draco winced as he heard her hit the floor. Etean swore loudly. "I swear, these kids will be the end of me," he hissed and marched forward.

Draco stood on his toes, trying to see if the kid was alright, but then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Checking his watch, he discovered that he was now a full minute behind his schedule.

"Fuck," he scolded himself as he darted out the door. Rule number Three: Stick to the plan. Draco half considered giving up, he didn't like being behind on his plans, but he had to persevere. With Snape out of the castle, this was seriously his best shot at pulling of this little robbery. There was also the fact that Hermione wanted to start brewing this infernal potion of hers tomorrow, if they had to put it off she would skin him alive, so this was his only chance.

Draco climbed the stairs two at a time in an attempt to catch up on himself. He reached the third floor and ducked down the corridor, straining his ears to hear any possible signs of his being detected. 'Behind…behind…now, right…then second left…then right…then left again…here we are.' He glanced down at his wrist to see that he had regained forty seconds at the expense of his composure. He shook himself and took a deep breath. 'Ok,' he looked around, 'now where is that damned statue?'

The corridor was lined with alcoves, each of which held a single life sized marble statue. Each was the carved image of a former Hogwarts Headteacher. None of the famous ones were here though…there were no images of the almighty founders, or anyone that was in any way worth remembering. In fact the only thing of note about these people was that they were former holders of the school's top job. Not one of them had done anything interesting in their whole life that Draco was aware of. It was only out of obligation to their memory that the school maintained their images at all. Draco had to find the right statue, the problem was that they were all nearly identical. They were all men, all in their late nineties, all wearing full length robes and long beards. Draco ticked off their names as he passed, 'Baldric Diggleworth, Hufflepuff, Neville Pondry, Hufflepuff, Tiberius Drake, Gryffindor, and Xavier Piet, Slytherin.'

Draco smiled as he looked up into the carved face of the ancient statue that guarded the entrance to Snape's little hidey-hole. He checked the corridor left and right, being discovered now would prove a bit awkward, but he was still alone. To be doubly sure, he pushed out his senses and took a better look around, nothing. Draco drew his wand and aimed it at the statues face and said the password,

"James," as loudly as he dared. He waited with baited breath for several long seconds before sighing with relief as the statue responded. Draco stepped aside as it slid forward out of its alcove to reveal the hidden entrance. The possibility that Snape had changed the password had been a major worry for him during his planning, but he had allowed himself the assumption that Snape wouldn't have, it meant something to the Oily one. Draco remembered his utter shock when Snape had told him that password. The idea that he would use the name of his worst enemy to guard his private sanctum had nearly flattened him on the spot. It wasn't until hours later that he had realised the genius of it. Who in their wildest, most bizarre of dreams would ever guess it?

The statue cleared the edge of the alcove. Draco darted as fast as he could around it and skipped silently down the short staircase to the store room below. The statue would close behind him, giving him all the time he needed to rummage for what he needed.

Torches set into the walls ignited the moment he entered the storeroom. Draco eyed the rows of locked cabinets warily. He hoped Snape hadn't moved anything. He only had a vague idea where some of the things he needed were located and he didn't fancy having to search all the presses, he'd be here all night. He slipped his hand into his pocket and took out the list. 'Right…Mermaid tears…three,' he looked up. Mermaid tears were aquatic in nature, so they would be…his gaze settled on the appropriate cupboard…there.

Draco crossed the floor and dropped to his knees. He aimed his wand at the lock and spoke an unlocking charm. Nothing happened. Draco scowled and tried a different spell, and then another. On the fourth try the lock responded. The cupboard door swung outward a fraction. Draco lifted his bag off his shoulder and set it down on the floor. He carefully emptied its contents and took out the sealed bundle. Draco opened it out, glass and metal gleamed at him from within the many pockets. He ignited his wand so that he could see the contents of the cupboard more clearly. He found a bottle of Mermaid tears after a few moments searching. Draco selected a test tube from the bundle and removed the stopper. He transferred the tube to his mouth and picked up the Mermaid tears bottle. He took a breath and held it as he undid the lid and then carefully decanted three drops into the tube. He sealed both the bottle and the tube, and then returned them to their respective places before moving on. Next he needed, 'Horlack hair…seven strands.'

His eyes scanned the presses again. He had no idea where Snape would store that stuff. 'Think Draco…you catalogued this place not ten months ago…where was the Horlack stored?'

He stared at the presses for several seconds before it came to him. 'Horlacks live in isolated mountain regions. They are big, hairy things that look like wingless, fangless dragons wearing fur coats. The best estimates say that there are only about thirty of them left in the world. So would they be with the other mountain creatures,' his eyes found the right press, 'Or with the really rare stuff…'

He snapped his fingers and headed for the endangered species locker, pausing only to grab another test tube from his pack. This cupboard was also locked and Draco discovered, to his chagrin, that he needed a different unlocking curse to open it. 'Damn it, why must Snape be so paranoid?'

Finally he got it open. The sight inside made him jump. He thought for a moment that someone was staring back at him. It took him a few moments to realise that the ghastly shape peering out at him in the torchlight was only a skull. Not that that was an immediate comfort, it was at least not an immediate threat. Draco lifted his wand and shone more light inside the cabinet. He let out a low whistle. 'A minotaur?' he blinked, that was a new addition to Snape's collection. The thing was huge and shaped vaguely like a human skull up to the nose, that's where it got weird. The bone thickened, the forehead sloped up and flattened onto the top of the skull. Two massive horns sprouted from either temple and curved down to vicious looking points before the eyes. Draco marvelled at it. He'd never seen a minotaur skull in the flesh…as it were…before, but he'd heard of them. The minotaur was the most potent source of masculine power in existence. Centuries ago, Grecian kings had coveted them as a symbol of power and strength, mounting them on pikes at the head of their armies before a battle. More to Draco's interest, the broth raised from boiling one was said to be the most powerful aphrodisiac known. It was rumoured to be strong enough to give a ghost an erection. A wicked thought shot into Draco's head, his eyes greedily scanned the shelf, but he found to his disappointment that Snape hadn't made any broth. He did spy a canister of grey paste labelled 'Minotaur Horn Extract - Concentrated,' and picked it up. 'If the broth is that powerful, then what the hell would this do?' he wondered. His curiosity almost got the better of his sense. 'Get a grip, Draco,' he scolded himself, 'Rule number Four: Don't be greedy.' He set the bottle down, that wasn't what he was here for and the more he took, the greater the odds of Snape realising that he'd been here.

'Right…back to work,' he pushed the Minotaur goop out of his mind and started to rummage through the rest of the cupboard.

It took him the greater part of an hour, and in the end he did have to rummage through every single locker, but Draco completed his list. He smiled in satisfaction as he packed up his bounty. It wasn't a total success, none of the pre-made potions that he had been hoping to find were present. He hadn't really expected them to be. Snape wasn't in the habit of storing prepared tonics near raw ingredients; there was just too much risk of cross contamination. Draco stood and re-checked the room to ensure that he had left no trace of his visit, and then paused to ponder. Snape had to have some of the things they needed prepared somewhere, but where? Given how well this storeroom was hidden, finding Snape's potion store could prove to be a real problem indeed. Then it occurred to him that it might not be that much of a problem at all. None of the potions they needed were dangerous, they were just hard to brew. If Snape had any of them, he would probably not feel the need to keep them in such a secure location. 'Think idiot, where?' He wracked his brain for several minutes before a possible solution presented itself. There was a locked cabinet in the back of Snape's office…Draco had never seen inside it. 'But,' he thought, 'it's worth a shot.'

Now he had to figure out a way to get into Snape's office? 'How the hell am I going to do that?' Snape was just as paranoid about the security of his office as he was about this place, maybe more. He always locked the outer door when he wasn't there. The inner door that connected to his classroom was left open when class was on, but that didn't do Draco much good. He couldn't image being able to sneak past Snape and enter his office undetected during a lesson. Cloak or no cloak, that wouldn't work. Time was also a factor to be considered. They needed some Leprechaun Tonic by tomorrow night if they were to keep to Hermione's schedule, which they were. She'd probably have some sort of breakdown if they had to delay it. That meant…he groaned…that meant a second raid in as many days.

It could be done though, the core of a plan formed in his brain. It wasn't pretty, and he would definitely need help, but that was a problem for later. He'd let the idea ferment for the time being. He had allotted himself an hour to do the searching and collecting, and his time was almost up. He placed the bundle into his bag and then carefully covered it with books and other flotsam to disguise its presence once more.

He took a final glance around the room, decided his actions had been as precise and clean as possible and turned on his heel. With a tiny grin, he climbed up the stairs and gently pushed the statue at the top. It wasn't secured from the inside and so he had no trouble opening it. He slipped out and took a hasty look around. The corridor was still deserted. 'Excellent.' He moved off, turning corners at silently until he reached the back staircase. He was supposed to meet Hermione in the Trophy Room in ten minutes, 'Plenty of time.' He smiled in satisfaction.

Draco slipped silently down the stairs to the ground floor, his smile widening with every step. He'd almost forgotten that he didn't want to be caught when he heard voices. He frowned for a moment, wondering where they were coming from. Then he realised, he was hearing them through the window, they were coming from outside. Draco moved over to the window and peered outside through a crack in the frosted pane. He instantly recognised the figure of Professor Dumbledore standing not twenty feet away talking to a large, hulking shadow,

"Are you sure that you do not require Madame Pomfrey's assistance, Firenze?"

The shadow moved out into the moonlight, now Draco could identify the towering palomino centaur. Draco could clearly see blood stains on its normally glossy golden fur. It bowed its head to talk to the Headmaster. "There is no need to summon your nurse, Professor Dumbledore, I am unharmed. The marks you see are of no concern." Despite its words, the beast moved uncertainly, as though it were hurt.

"I find that hard to believe, my friend, I know the punishment that your people promised you should you venture again into the forest…a threat that it appears they have endeavoured to make good on. I apologise again for having to ask this of you."

"There is no need for you to concern yourself with my wellbeing, Professor Dumbledore, the will of the stars led me to this place and I do not question their wisdom." Draco rolled his eyes at the sound of the centaur's quasi-religious nonsense. He still could not fathom the Headmaster's decision to employ a centaur. Initially, it had been an attempt to get under Delores Umbridge's skin, but she was long gone now. So why had Dumbledore not sent the thing packing?

"Quite so," Dumbledore sounded tired, "who are any of us to question the stars?" He delivered the line with no trace of scorn. Draco was impressed. "Have they conferred their decision to your Matriarch?"

Draco leaned forward. This conversation was starting to sound interesting. The centaur pawed the ground slightly. "Forgive me, Professor Dumbledore, but hearing a human refer to the Purest One in such a direct manner is most unsettling. I of course, realise that you meant no insult by it."

"Indeed," Dumbledore bowed his head slightly, "I would never intend such a thing. My question was broached out of an honest desire to conclude this conversation so that you may take your leave to rest."

"I require no rest except to meditate beneath the gaze of the stars," Firenze said dreamily, casting its gaze skyward. "Though I fear that they have chosen to veil themselves tonight. The great weight of the current times, while insignificant to them, can not be unnoticed I fear," it shuffled and pawed the ground again, "My dreams have been troubled of late."

"As have mine," the Headmaster answered.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Draco marvelled at the degree of patience that Dumbledore seemed to possess. Firenze still hadn't answered his question. If it had been Draco, he'd have been screaming at the centaur by now.

At last, and in its own time, Firenze spoke. "The stars have withheld their decision from the Purest One. She neither gave, nor did I seek any further explanation, but she bade me to speak to you thus: The centaur race has forever followed a single law above all else when we deal with other races, we do not harm foals," the centaur raised a single golden arm and waved at the castle, "This place is a place where your foals reside, and your words are that it is in jeopardy. The Purest One has considered this and she agrees, even the wind speaks of the coming storm. The centaurs would prefer that you see to their defence on your own, as is right," the centaur paused to scan the sky again, it seemed pensive, "It is the decision of the Purest One, however, that her brethren cannot stand by and do nothing if their inaction leads to the death of your foals. So, with great trepidation, and only at the last hour of need, she offers them her protection. At your darkest hour, she bids you to call her as you have been instructed, and the centaurs will answer."

Dumbledore was actually visibly relieved. "My eternal thanks go to you and your people, Firenze. It is still my most fervent hope that such a measure will not be needed, but knowing that it is there will allow me sleep better at night. Now, my friend, I can delay you no longer, go, find what rest you need…with my thanks."

They both bowed and then parted without another word. Draco straightened up, unsure of what he had just witnessed. Had the centaurs just joined the war on Dumbledore's side? It kind of sounded like it, but then it was always damn near impossible to understand just what a centaur was actually saying. On the rare occasions that they gave direct answers to questions, the answers made little or no sense. Still, they had agreed to help, sort of.

Draco wanted to feel happy, but the truth was that all the talk of 'the greatest hour of need' had left him feeling hollow. How far would things have to go, how near to the end of all things would they have to get before the centaurs would help them? And what help could they give? Were they a force to match Voldemort's army of evil creatures? Even if they were, and Draco seriously doubted it, could they be trusted? They were animals after all, talking animals, but animals all the same. Draco leaned against the window in thought. If Etean's view of the war was even near accurate, then Dumbledore was hardly in any position to turn down any help, no matter where it came from.

'But still,' Draco scowled, "centaurs guarding Hogwarts? What's next…Battalions of House Elves?' Draco shook his head at the mental picture of dozens of tiny armoured elves, strangely enough, all wearing tea cosies on their heads for helmets. He pictured them marching and chanting little songs about scrubbing floors. He scowled, that was a ridiculous notion, the centaurs…not so much. At least they could look the part, standing seven feet tall and bearing the weight of a full sized stallion. Add armour and maybe a good sized pike and you got an impressive eyeful and no mistake. The sight of a full herd of them charging white mouthed with abandon would be enough to scare anyone into immediate surrender. It would just be a sight though, no substance. Centaurs were, for want of a better word, spiritual creatures. They were priests, not warriors. While priests had been known to be effective fighters in the past, Draco knew which he'd rather have on his side. When your back was to the wall, you wanted someone by your side that was ready to kill, not someone who was forever pre-occupied with stargazing and…Draco paused, and they were completely obsessed with visions.

Any mention of that topic lately caught his attention. The centaur race was famous for being devout followers of divination. It was the fervent belief of every centaur that they could see the future if they could interpret the movements of the stars correctly. He had heard that those amongst the centaur race that actually had real visions were elevated to the status of royalty. If they took visions that seriously, then did they know of a way to help Hermione? He almost laughed at the idea of asking a monster for help, but he found his own words coming back at him. This potion, even if it worked, was still only a temporary solution, were he and Hermione in any position to turn down help themselves?

He looked at his watch and realised that he was now late for his meeting with Hermione. Without wasting another minute, he headed off to the Trophy room.

* * *

"Meet me in the Trophy Room at precisely twenty to ten tonight," Hermione remembered her earlier conversation with Draco.

"Are you sure you don't want my help?"

Draco had rolled his eyes. "No, for the last time, no," he stood up, lifting her from his lap and dropping her onto her feet, "Now I have to go get ready," a quick kiss on her forehead, "see you later," and he was gone.

That was three hours ago, it was nearly time for her to leave to go meet him. The evening had dragged out so much that Hermione had actually checked her watch on several occasions to make sure it hadn't stopped. Ginny had tried three times to strike up a conversation, but Hermione hadn't been able to keep up. She wished that she hadn't made all her preparations earlier, at least that way she'd have had something to do all evening. Had it worked? Would it work? Could Draco get everything they needed? Had he been caught?

She chewed her lip and stared at the fire. This was too much, she was about to burst not knowing. Shit, someone was talking to her,

"What?" she frowned, turning to face Lavender.

Her housemate, who was amongst the few who had started to talk to her again, shook her head. "I asked if you had your charms book with you," she pointed down at Hermione's bag, which was lying beside her chair.

Hermione looked down. "Yes," she said. The book should be in there. She reached out for her bag to dig it out.

"Well can I have a loan of it?"

"Sure," Hermione took a moment to realise that even though she had intended to reach for her bag, her arm hadn't moved. She stared down at it, momentarily seeing a flash of Draco's dead skin that made her shiver. Her arm was lying on the arm of her chair, she concentrated, willing it to move. At last it did, she reached down hurriedly and tugged the bag open, "here," she said as she passed the book over. Her arm felt oddly numb, as though it were asleep. Lavender took the book and thanked her before returning to her seat and getting back to her homework. Hermione started silently making fists over and over, trying to wake her fingers. Ginny appeared at her elbow.

"What does this symbol mean?"

Hermione blinked down at the book that Ginny was holding out before her, Etean's book. "What?" she looked up at her friend, "When did you take that back?"

Ginny shook her head. "Damn Hermione, have you heard a word I said to you tonight?"

"Sorry?"

"I asked you about an hour ago where this was so I could get it. You don't remember?"

Hermione hadn't a clue what Ginny was talking about. Her words from earlier were all a blur in Hermione's head. "No," she said sheepishly.

Ginny snarled. "Malfoy really has you messed up, do you know that?" she ruffled Hermione's hair, "Now focus for a minute," she pointed to the book, "This symbol."

Hermione looked down, the symbol that Ginny was pointing at was familiar. It looked vaguely like a snake coiled into a crescent shape. Her eyes moved to the other page, the English that she knew would be explaining the symbols. "I…I think it's called 'Rohyen.'"

"I know what it's called," Ginny said, "but what does it mean?"

"I'm not sure…do you have…" Ginny tossed her a scroll, "my notes."

Hermione unfolded the notes she had made from the Valkar book. She had tried to lay things out clearly for Ginny to understand. Based on the few confused comments that had been added in Ginny's tiny scrawl, she hadn't been all that successful. She ignored them and skipped down to the section dealing with the Valkar written language and searched for the specific symbol. The problem with translating Valkar into English came from the nature of the Valkar alphabet…they didn't have one. Their language was based on symbols and imagery. The symbols they used didn't represent letters or even words as such, rather each glyph represented an idea or theme. The problem was that most themes cannot be solely defined in a single word. As a result, the symbols all had many meanings depending on context. Hermione decided against explaining all of that to Ginny. Instead she turned the page and showed it to her. "Here you go. Rohyen can mean a lot of different things depending on the other symbols it's grouped with."

"Oh," Ginny scowled, "damn."

"Why?"

Ginny shook her head. She closed the book and held out a piece of parchment for Hermione to read. Three glyphs were arranged in a neat horizontal row. Hermione looked at them, puzzled. "Robert decided that I needed a little challenge. He gave me this and told me I'd get a prize if I figured out what it says."

"Huh?" Hermione frowned. A lot of Valkar glyphs were explained in this book, but that was only a small fraction. "But this book isn't a dictionary…why would you be able to work it out from this?"

"He claims that there is enough in here for me to do it. So, any ideas?" she looked hopeful.

Hermione looked at the note, of the three symbols, she recognised Rohyen in the centre and Sendere on the end, the first one, which resembled a broken cross, she couldn't name. "The symbols are arranged in a horizontal row," she scanned her notes, that meant something, "Horizontal means that the middle word will be the pivot, changing those on either side of it."

Ginny looked blankly at her. "Is that a fact?"

"Yes," Hermione answered absently. "Now let me see, Rohyen means power…command…maybe demand. Sendere is heat…fire…flames…burning. And the last one…" she trailed off and flicked through the book again, finally she found it: "Odel, possession…ownership…greed."

Ginny dropped onto the couch. "So what does this mean then?"

Hermione frowned, sorting it all out. 'Odel Rohyen Sendere… Greed…Power…Fire…Greedy powerful fire?' She shook her head; that made no sense. Translation wasn't about being literal, she reminded herself. The Valkar used ideas not words, greed was acquisition at all costs … accumulate … consume … devour … Rohyen was the pivot, so it would change the meaning … powerful greed? And then there was the fire … powerful fire? An idea started to form in her head, stitching it all together. It started to make sense to her. She thought knew what it said, she just had to express it in her own words. "Something like: 'The all consuming fire,' I think," even as she said it, she knew that it was probably wrong, but it was the best she could do.

Ginny sat back and looked pensive. "Are you sure?"

"No," Hermione checked her watch and nearly leapt out of her skin, after a night of waiting, she would now be late. She stuffed the notes into Ginny's lap and headed for the door, "but it's something like that I'm sure…I'll see you later."

"Where are you going?" Ginny called after her.

"What?" Hermione paused for a moment, "Oh, just for a walk."

She didn't wait for any further commentary before she bolted through the Portrait Hole. Hermione took the stairs at a reckless pace, leaping three at a time on her descent. She was completely out of breath by the time she hit the floor of the Entrance Hall at a run and shot down the corridor to the Trophy Room. Draco was sitting, looking completely relaxed, with his back against the quidditch cabinet.

He looked up at her as she bent double, clutching a stitch in her side. "Glad you could make it," he said dryly, "You're ten minutes late by the way."

"I…I know….but….was…delayed," she panted.

"Well at least you got some exercise," he commented as he stood up, "So, where to?"

"What?"

He scowled. "You did find somewhere for us to brew this damned potion yes?"

"Yes," she took a deep breath and finally managed to straighten up, "Did you get…everything?"

Draco frowned. "I got enough to be getting on with," he pointed to the door, "So lead on."

Hermione nodded, her eyes lingering for a moment on his bag. "Come on then," she said and headed out, "Remember, if anyone asks we're just two prefects out on patrol."

"I do remember, Hermione," Draco sidled up beside her and took hold of her hand, "But, honestly, do you think that will wash with anyone?"

"Maybe not, but still, what else would we say?"

Draco moved behind her, still holding her hand. His movements made her spin round. When she stopped, she found herself in his arms. Her hair had fallen down over her face, covering her eyes. She tried without success to blow it away.

Draco released her hand and brushed her fringe aside. "We wouldn't have to say anything. They would make their own assumptions all on their own."

He moved forward to kiss her, but she drew back. "They'd be wrong though."

"Would they?" his eyebrows arched, "And would they know that?"

He leaned in again and this time she let him kiss her for a second. "Ok then," she parted from him and stood upright, "but we really shouldn't linger here, unless you want to get caught, that is."

Draco stepped back and gestured her forward. He didn't seem nervous about sneaking about, but if she were to guess, she'd say it was an act. Hermione wasn't that good an actor. She was shaking. She found herself gripping his hand again for dear life. Her hopes were pinned on this working, she couldn't bear to fail before they had even tried. She moved on, eager to get on with the business at hand. There would be plenty of time to waste later. They made their way in silence. Even so, she shushed Draco and moved on tiptoe when it came time to walk past the doors of the Hospital wing. She knew that Madame Pomfrey liked to keep unusual hours.

"Where are we going?" Draco sounded pensive.

"Shhh," she rounded on him, then froze to listen for any signs of movement outside of the two of them, "Come on," she mouthed to him and hurried on. She understood Draco's trepidation. Doubtless he had surmised their destination and wasn't happy about it. She didn't blame him.

Hermione came to a halt next to the hidden entrance to Draco's former abode and turned to face him. Just as she had suspected, he didn't look at all pleased to be back. He scowled. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

Hermione took hold of his hand to reassure him. "Can you think of a better place? Outside of the two of us, who even knows that this room is here?"

"Dumbledore for one, and Madame Pomfrey…probably every other teacher too for that matter. We may as well advertise."

He was upset, and he wasn't thinking clearly. She reached up and stroked his chin to get his full attention. "That may be true, but they all think that this room is empty now. They have no reason to ever go in there," she smiled, "Besides, I changed the password so that even Dumbledore would have to break his way in." She could feel Draco's teeth grind beneath his skin. Going back to this room was really hard for him, "I know you don't like it, Draco, and I'm sorry that I got you in to this," she reached for his bag, "Just give me the ingredients and I'll take it from there."

Hermione smiled weakly at him. Draco frowned down at her. His hand caught hers and pulled it away from her bag, "No," he said, "I agreed to help you…and you have a point about the room. So what's the new password?"

"Lupie," Hermione answered.

Draco's frown deepened. "Loopy? As in crazy?"

"No, Lupie as in the great big wolf that I chase every damned night," she said flatly, "But your definition also applies I suppose."

Draco squeezed her hand painfully. "If I have to tell you one more time, Granger, I swear I'll scream…you are not going crazy."

"I know," she said to cut off the impending lecture, "I know…"

"Say it!" he demanded, his eyes narrowed to twinkling slits.

"I am not going crazy!" she said. 'I hope,' she added glumly inside her head.

Draco nodded, then guided her to the door. He spoke the password aloud and the wall parted. Hermione led the way as they entered. Inside, she found everything as she had left it. Her spare cauldron – this thing would have to brew for at least a week and she needed her main one – was set up in the middle of the floor with two preparation tables, one at either side, ready for them to get to work. Draco moved past her and examined the set up. He nodded several times and then frowned. "House elves? They clean this room."

Hermione had thought of that. "I had a word with Dobby, he promised to keep an eye on things for us…he thinks this is an extra credit assignment," she added when she saw his shocked expression.

After a moment, he shook his head. "You seriously trust a House Elf with this?"

"Yes…Dobby's very smart, he won't let us down."

"If you say so," he didn't sound convinced, "So what do we do first?"

"Let me see what you've got," she moved over toward the bed as Draco dropped his bag. He rummaged and took out a small parcel and handed it to her. Hermione's fingers were trembling as she undid the fastening and opened it out.

"Do you always shake like that when you open presents?" Draco was behind her now, his arms found their way around her waist as his chin came to rest on her shoulder.

"Just the important ones," she answered. Her eyes hungrily devoured the various tubes and bottles inside the package. 'Great,' she thought, relieved. Draco had gotten everything they needed. All but… "Leprechaun Tonic…Kneazle Broth?"

"Afraid not…no sign."

Hermione's heart sank. "Then we're sunk," she said glumly. Careful planning had reduced the time to brew this concoction down from a fortnight to a week, but if they had to brew the other potions… "This will take forever."

The Kneazle Broth couldn't be brewed for almost a month…which seemed like an eternity to Hermione right now. And she didn't even know where to start looking for Leprechauns. 'Maybe Seamus would know…'

"I wouldn't say that," Draco moved his hands up and rubbed her shoulders, "If I thought we were stuck, I wouldn't have bothered stealing all of this stuff…its not like I need a dried Fairy Heart for anything, is it?"

"No, the one you've got is dry enough," she didn't know where that answer came from, but it made her smile to feel him tense suddenly in surprise.

"You know, you don't sound very grateful considering all the effort I put in tonight. Just for that, maybe I won't help you get the rest of the ingredients."

Hermione turned and looped her arms around his neck before he could move away. "What do you mean?" She could tell from the look on his face that he had an idea.

He looked at her, a grin flickering across his face. "What's it worth to you?"

Hermione pulled him down and kissed him deeply. "That good enough?" she smiled, "Or do I have to bite?"

Draco's eyebrow arched. He said nothing for several seconds until Hermione bared her teeth and let out a low growl. Draco drew back. "Snape's office," he said, sounding slightly worried, "there's a hidden store behind one of the display cases where Snape keeps some of his secrets. If he has any Leprechaun Tonic, it'll be there."

Hermione frowned. Draco certainly seemed to know a hell of a lot about where things were hidden in Hogwarts. "How do you know about it, if nobody's supposed to?"

"I have my ways." He grinned smugly at her.

That grin was designed to get a rise out of Hermione, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. She simply turned away and returned her attention to the ingredients. 'Back to work!' She grabbed the first few ingredients from the packet and then bent down to retrieve the bundle of more mundane supplies that she'd hidden beneath the bed. She heard Draco cough and then froze. A fierce blush spread across her face when she realised how suggestive her posture was. She could feel her bum pressing into Draco's groin as he stood behind her. Draco's hands had found their way down there too. His touch was light, but it was enough to startle her. Hermione hastily grabbed the bundle and stood up. "Sorry," she coughed and walked away toward the cauldron. She arranged the ingredients on the table in front of her, mentally listing out the steps ahead, trying to forget her embarrassment.

In a second, Draco was behind her again, nuzzling her neck. "I wasn't complaining," there was a suggestive tone in his voice that made Hermione nervous.

She shifted from foot to foot. "Erm…we need to get to work Draco," she said in as clear a voice as she could.

Draco seemed to catch on, he kissed her neck quickly and then released her. "Whatever you say," he said without a hint of disappointment. "So what do you want me to do?"

Hermione took out her wand and filled the cauldron two thirds of the way up. "Grind up the scarab shells and the Billiwig sting. They need to be completely mixed as powder."

Draco nodded, picked up the scarabs and set to work. Hermione felt herself blush again slightly before she selected the fairy heart and added it to the cauldron. She picked up her wand and then carefully brought the water to a boil. She kept her eyes fixed on the tiny black lump as it bobbed in the water, trying not to think of the beautiful creature that had died to provide it. When she saw it start to dissolve, Hermione began to stir the cauldron. She continued to do so until she lost sight of the tiny organ, then she picked up the Mermaid tears and carefully added one drop to the mix.

"Fine enough?" Draco asked, showing her the pestle in his hand.

"Not quite," she answered, "the book said fine powder."

Draco accepted this and took up his mortar again without a word. The next hour passed in silence. The only words spoken were Draco asking for instructions and Hermione giving them. Hermione felt uncomfortable. For the first time in a long time she felt awkward around Draco, and she didn't like it. She couldn't bring herself to mention it however, so she just kept working. Eventually, her time ran out, they completed all the necessary steps.

Draco added the last of the scarab powder and set down his measuring spoon. "What now?"

"Nothing," Hermione checked her notes just to be sure, "We have to let it reduce down for two hours before we let it cool…then we have twenty four hours before we need to add the Leprechaun Tonic and the next Mermaid tear."

Draco stepped back and stretched, "So what do we do for two hours?" he asked innocently. Hermione swallowed hard as another fire spread across her cheeks. Draco yawned and walked toward the bed. "Ah hello old friend," he said sarcastically as he ran his fingers across the wooden foot of the bed. He seemed to have recovered from any difficulty he had with their surroundings. Their surroundings, and that bed in particular, was a pretty major difficulty for Hermione right now. She hadn't even considered it when she had chosen this venue. 'Damn!' Hermione felt a knot form in her throat as she watched him stretch out on the bed and grin up at her. "You know, this is pretty comfortable," lifted himself onto his elbow and patted the bed beside him invitingly, "Why don't you join me?"

Panic hit Hermione in the face like cold water. He didn't mean… She had to fight to get any sound out of her mouth. "Erm…Draco I…I don't…"

"I know," he said quietly, "you know you are very presumptuous, Hermione," he preened himself and then made a show of examining his nails, "Not that I blame you, but I am not that easy."

He smiled at her. Hermione's eyes narrowed. She could see it in his face that he actually did know what was bothering her. He was joking about to ease her worries. She forced herself to calm down. It wasn't like there was any harm in what he was suggesting after all. They had time to kill and he just wanted to get comfortable. She liked being comfortable with him, but could she… 'Damn it, Granger, get over it!' She walked over and sat down, after a moment she worked up the courage to lie down next to him.

Draco laughed. "Will you relax!" he said, reaching out to pinch her side where it tickled. Hermione winced and giggled at the same time, but did manage to relax for a moment. She rolled onto her side and smiled at him. She knew it wouldn't last though, she was just not going to be able to relax for long unless she had something to occupy her.

'Business…stick to business,' "So…how do you plan on getting into Snape's office?"

Draco's lips pursed. "Well…it isn't going to be easy, but I've been giving it some thought this last hour."

"And…"

"And," he sighed, "I'm afraid that we're going to have to borrow a page out of Saint Potter's bible of rule breaking."

Hermione frowned. "How do you mean?"

"Well," Draco moved closer to her and brushed her hair from her eyes again, "I'm not sure you're going to like this…"

* * *

Draco opened his eyes. Something had woken him, but he didn't know what it was. He looked up at the ceiling above him. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then he remembered. 'Fuck,' he thought, 'why did Hermione have to decide on coming here?' The walls of this room brought nothing but bad memories to Draco; he had hoped never to see this place again. Feelings of depression and despair that he had thought he had left behind him came rushing back. The great empty pit in his gut loomed wide once more. He shut his eyes and forced himself to focus on other things. Thankfully there was something at hand.

Hermione moved against his ribs, turning her head this way and that in her nightmare. She looked so helpless lying there beside him, Draco's heart went out to her. It was such a contrast to earlier. The memory of her face when he'd suggested they make use of the bed was hilarious. It had put Draco in mind of a frightened rabbit caught in bright torchlight. She had actually thought that he was going to jump her. Draco smiled, he wouldn't mind the opportunity to tell the truth, but it didn't require the full use of a single synapse to work out that Hermione wasn't ready to take that particular step just yet. Draco looked down at her, gently tightening his grip to steady her. He could wait. Her brows knitted and un-knitted. Draco wondered what twisted images were flashing through her mind.

"Nhhh…no nhh…g…way," she muttered.

"Shh," Draco soothed. He ran a hand down her back in an attempt to settle her. It didn't work. "No…nhhhh…NO!" she shouted and snapped awake. Her eyes looked around rapidly in confusion before they settled on him. Draco almost heard the question coming. "You're awake," he said quietly, "I promise."

Hermione frowned for a second, then sagged. Her head landed on his chest as she buried her face in his robes. "Sorry," she said.

Even muffled the way her voice was, Draco was almost sure that she was crying. "Hey," he lifted her head, "you don't need to apologise. It was just a bad dream."

"You don't know…" she started, but then trailed off.

Draco took a deep breath, he didn't know but, "I'd like to. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Her eyes connected with his in a sudden movement. "It was the same as all the rest…I told you…"

"But I don't know why they scare you so much," Draco said. This was dangerous territory. Hermione didn't like talking about her dreams, but not knowing was driving Draco mad.

"How would you like to be naked and alone and have hundreds of people staring at you?" she said defensively.

"Easy," Draco whispered, running a hand down her face, "I was only asking. You told me what happens, but, if it's always the same dream…shouldn't you…I don't know…be used to it by now?"

Hermione lowered her head into his robes again, shaking it slowly. "Maybe I should, but I'm not. The eyes…they aren't just looking at me."

"No?"

"No…it's like they're examining me…judging me."

Draco didn't understand her. "Judging you? How?"

"I don't know…it's not something I can explain…but they are all there to sit in judgement on me…I know it…and I know that I'm not worthy…"

She trailed off into a fit of sobs. Draco moved her gently up along him until he could properly put his arms around her. Hermione buried her face in the crook of his neck and sobbed her heart out while he rocked her and tried his best to soothe her to no avail. Finally Hermione's predicament made sense to him. In some weird way, Hermione had failed a test. In fact, she was failing the same test over and over again and there was nothing she could do about it. The fact that it was one that she didn't understand only made it worse.

She continued to sob regardless of his words of comfort for a long time. Finally she came to her senses, slightly. "Sorry," she apologised again.

Draco decided not to bother admonishing her for it. "It's alright. I'm sorry I asked."

"No," she sniffed hard, "you had every right to ask. You've helped me so much…you don't even know," she paused and looked him in the eye, "I think I'd have gone under by now if it wasn't for you."

'Right back at you!' Draco smiled at her. "Who'd have thought that you would ever say that to me?"

She laughed. "Not me, that's for sure…but it's true nonetheless."

Hermione smiled, and then yawned. She looked completely exhausted. "Go back to sleep," Draco adjusted her position in his arms to let her lie out.

Hermione shook her head. "No…I can't…they'll still be there."

He smiled at her. "Maybe," he kissed her forehead, "But I know that I'll be here, so they won't keep you. I won't let them."

She returned his smile sleepily. "Promise?"

"I promise, now…shhhh."

Hermione's smile faded. Her eyes fluttered closed. Draco watched her closely as she settled and drifted off to sleep. She looked at peace. Draco wanted nothing more for her than to stay like that for the rest of the night but it wasn't to be. Painfully soon, her eyes started to dart about behind their lids. Her legs started to wriggle and twitch. If the dreams were holding their pattern, then she'd be chasing the wolf right about now. That did it. 'We are getting this potion made,' Draco made his silent vow, 'I don't care if I have to blast Snape apart to do it, I will get those potions for her.' Draco sighed, his plan had to work. He didn't like it, it was too messy…too public…too Potter-esque, but it had to work…it was going to work. He set about the task of finalising the details as he waited for Hermione's nightmare to wake her up again.

* * *

Draco checked his watch, eleven thirty, one hour to lunch. He paused outside the Common Room. 'Here goes.' He spoke the password and entered.

Thursday mornings were amongst the busiest in Hogwarts, for sixth years especially. All the really popular classes, charms, transfiguration and divination were all on at the same time. As a result the dorm would be all but deserted. Every sixth year Slytherin was enrolled in at least one of those classes…almost. Draco smiled as he heard the grunting noises from within the Common Room, the idiots were inside. Crabbe and Goyle, recognised universally, even by themselves, as total and utter morons, had chosen a timetable to suit their interests. Care of Magical Creatures, even those two could look after flobberworms, most of the time, and Potions, where Snape's Slytherin privileges offered them some shelter. Seeing as how they needed three subjects to complete their schedule, they had both elected to take Magical History, they knew that they'd fail it, but at least they could get some more sleep during classes.

So while everyone else was attending class, they were now sitting alone in the Common Room, trying to dislocate each other's arms in what they would call arm-wrestling. They both saw him and looked up, momentarily perplexed by Draco's appearance. He was supposed to be in charms, but this was more important. Goyle leaned forward and whispered something to Crabbe. Draco made out the words. 'Slumming it,' as he painted a false smile on his face and walked over to the fireplace. The two hulks collapsed into a fit of giggles and titters. Draco spread his smile wider. He moved in behind Crabbe, using his bulk to prevent Goyle from seeing him drawing his wand. 'We'll see who's laughing in a minute, Pea brain.'

Draco paused. How had it come to this? Needing Crabbe and Goyle for his plan was bad enough, but now he had to put up with them mocking him? No way.

"Having fun?" he asked in a nonchalant air. Neither boy answered him, but Draco hadn't expected them to. He laughed, seeming to go along with their joke. "Goyle…you must tell me that joke sometime," he nodded to Crabbe, "Vincent here seems to really like it. Isn't that right Vinnie?"

Anyone else would have seen the danger coming, anyone else wouldn't dream of laughing at Draco while he was standing right behind him without at least looking around once. Crabbe, however, was an idiot. Draco's smile never wavered. Quick as a flash, he raised his wand and spoke a curse that he seldom had the need to use under his breath. He caught the thin steel cord as it appeared out of his wand and coiled it rapidly around his fingers. In less than a second, he twisted the garrotte around Crabbe's thick neck. He pulled it tight and pressed the heel of his hand into the base of Crabbe's skull to increase the pressure. The oaf gagged harshly and reached up, his thick fingers scrambled and scratched at the cord but could find no purchase.

Draco leaned back on his right leg to keep his hold. He glared up at Goyle who was in the process of comprehending what he had just seen. Draco counted to three before the twit moved. "Hold it, Goyle," he hissed through his clenched teeth, "I wouldn't want to hurt your boyfriend here." He locked eyes with Goyle and glared him down, "I think you forgot…what with the hilarity of your effervescent wit distracting you and all…that laughing at my expense is NOT a good idea. Now," he leaned back and tugged harder at Crabbe's neck, "have I got your complete attention?"

Goyle didn't answer. He looked as though he was still trying to work out the word 'hilarity' before he assaulted the far off, snowy peak of 'effervescent', but a strangled cough from Crabbe got through to him. He nodded, sending his jowls wobbling sickeningly. Draco held on for a three count, and then freed his prisoner. He wound the garrotte wire round his right fist as the massive lump coughed and spluttered and slid down onto his knees seeking air. "Remember this lesson, you two, because next time I might not let go."

Goyle's brow furrowed. "You back then, Draco?" he growled.

Draco rolled his eyes. "When did I leave?" he asked, "but to answer the question that you should have asked, no, I haven't stopped seeing Hermione, nor will I in the near future." The two boys looked at one another, Crabbe sat back rubbing his neck. Draco didn't have several hours for them to work out what was going on, so he just sat down and joined his hands. "Now…believe it or not, I'm not angry with either of you. You're both far too dense to know better…that isn't to say that I'll tolerate it in the future mind you, but the slate is clean as of now," he paused, "At least it will be, when you have done me a little favour."

"What?" Crabbe coughed.

Draco laughed. "Oh don't worry…it wont be anything complicated…in fact I think you two will rather enjoy it."

He set about explaining his plan. He had to do it several times, and very slowly in parts, but in the end they seemed to get it. "Right," he said, standing up, "Do you understand?"

Goyle looked to Crabbe. "Yes…but…"

"No, Goyle, but nothing…I am not asking you to do this, I'm telling you," he turned to Crabbe, "both of you. I have explained it, you understand it…now you are going to do it…and you are NOT going to mess it up," he waved the wire coil in front of Crabbe's eyes, "Do you hear me?" Crabbe nodded, he looked to Goyle, another nod, "Fine, I'll see you at lunch…be p…" he started to say 'prompt', but who was he kidding, "Be on time."

Draco turned to leave, pausing to check the printed timetables on the notice board. His plan was shaping up. Tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee may not be bright, but even those two couldn't mess this up. Now all he needed was the assistance of a certain plucky kid and all things would be set.

* * *

Hermione sat at the table, listening to the girls around her giggle away merrily. Most were still pretty cool with her, but they didn't seem to mind her presence. Lavender had even started to make certain hints along the lines that she wanted to ask Hermione some searching, and very personal questions. Hermione felt her stomach churn at that. Lavender probably wouldn't like the answers…they were bothering Hermione if she was honest about it. Her gaze moved to Draco. He gave her a quick wink and a smile. He was going to enjoy this, she assumed glumly. She looked to Harry and Ron at the end of the table…they weren't going to enjoy it.

Betrayal, Hermione hated betrayal. She hadn't liked betraying Draco when those two had convinced her to bait him for their little interrogation, and she wasn't any happier about betraying them now, even if, or perhaps because it was for her own benefit. She shut her eyes for a moment and thought about the dreams, and how this little scheme of Draco's was ultimately intended to put a stop to them. That made her feel a little bit better. 'Harry and Ron would understand,' she told herself, 'if they knew what was going on that is.'

She growled to herself quietly. 'What the hell are you worrying about those two for?'

Hermione sighed, that wasn't her thought. 'Great…you're back,' she thought miserably.

'Yes…it would certainly seem so…and just in time too. You aren't seriously worried about hurting those two prats' feelings after they have been so horrible to you, are you?' the voice answered.

Hermione shook her head slightly. If she was going nuts, why did she have to be so unpredictable about it? She decided to ignore its question and pose one of her own. 'Where did you go?' she asked the voice angrily.

'Settle down now,' came the answer, 'I'm here now, aren't I?'

Hermione checked her watch. It was just about show time. If she was going to warn Harry and Ron, she'd have to do it now.

'Why in Merlin's name would you do that?' the voice snapped at her, 'It isn't like they deserve your concern now is it?'

'They're my friends though.'

The voice laughed. 'Are they? You could have fooled me.' It dissolved into raucous laughter.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Shut up,' she ordered it, 'You aren't helping.'

The laughter died. 'Well I would if you let me…I helped you the other night didn't I?'

'Yeah, and scared the hell out of me. Did you have to show me Draco's hand?'

There was a sigh inside her head. 'Unfortunately, I couldn't control that…the dreams are not my doing…I just thought you'd prefer that one to the alternative for a change.'

Hermione thought about it, given a choice, she would prefer anything to those damned eyes. 'So why didn't you do it again last night? Or the night before?'

'Sorry Honey,' the voice cooed, 'it just isn't that simple.'

Hermione was about to answer when she realised that Harry was standing up. He and Ron had finished lunch. She looked over to Draco, he had spotted it too. 'Here we go,' she thought to herself, determined to ignore the voice if it decided to pester her anymore. This was no time to be arguing with one's self.

Draco looked down the length of the Slytherin table and nodded. Hermione followed his gaze and saw a small dark haired first year…Draco's little friend she presumed…clamber from the table and skip out of the Hall. Hermione stood up, excused herself from the table and moved to follow Harry and Ron as they left amongst the other Gryffindor boys. Harry cleared the door. Hermione waited and sure enough, there was Heather skipping toward him. 'The size of her!' she thought, 'Draco must be nuts, this will not work.' Hermione watched in astonishment as with calm confidence, the little girl slipped in amongst the boys and moved up behind Harry. With cat-like grace and skill, Heather slipped a single tiny hand into Harry's trouser pocket and drew it out a second later, holding Harry's wand tight in her fingers. Hermione stopped and goggled. The kid had done it, she had actually done it. She had lifted Harry Potter's wand from his pocket and he hadn't even noticed. Seamus did though.

"Hey," he roared as Heather bolted for the dungeon steps, "Harry, that little snake's got your wand!"

The boys stopped in their tracks. Harry patted his pockets for a moment, then looked up. "Oi," he bellowed, "You little…Come back!" He took off, the rest followed him. Other students in the Entrance Hall looked stunned as the crowd raced past them. Behind her, Hermione could hear the commotion begin to spread through the Great Hall.

"Snape's office," Draco whispered in her ear, "five minutes." He gave her rear end a slight pinch. "For luck," he shouted as he raced off after Harry and the others. Hermione looked at his retreating back for a moment. She had to hand it to Draco, this might actually work after all. She turned and raced off to the rear staircase. She had her duties in this little enterprise too.

* * *

Draco pelted down the dungeon stairs. He could hear the commotion ahead of him as Potter and the Weasel Brigade chased Heather as she weaved her merry way through the dungeons. Draco had had his doubts about involving her. He had been worried that she wouldn't be able to pull it off. The look in her eyes when he had suggested it however had put paid to any doubts he had. She had been practically skipping at the idea when he'd explained it. The offer of payment seemed to go unnoticed, well almost, she was a Slytherin after all. He'd been slightly surprised at her eagerness, but she was playing along, so he hadn't asked too many questions.

Right now, she was tearing along top speed, following a complicated and over extended route through the dungeons, leading Potter and his friends on a happy little wild goose chase. All she had to do was keep going and not get caught…she had assured him that she could out run the posse, and Draco hoped that she wasn't just being vain. He turned away from following them and ran down a side corridor, slipped through a secret passage and emerged in the corridor by the potions classroom. He ran on until he reached the designated junction. Crabbe and Goyle were there as planned, waiting for him.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Goyle answered, Crabbe just glared at him, apparently still sore about earlier. His neck was glaring with red welts, but soon that would be the least of his problems.

Draco nodded. "Good, they're on their way," as he said it, he heard the patter of running footsteps, "Remember, I don't care what you do or how you do it, just keep them all here for the next ten minutes…got it?"

They both nodded. Heather skidded into the junction. Draco could hear the others close behind her. They weren't supposed to see him. He glared a warning at the moron twins and then took hold of her collar. "Come on," he ordered her, and led the way back down the corridor. He led the kid back to the same secret passage he had used and pushed it open just as he heard the first of the shouts of annoyance from behind him. Crabbe and Goyle had engaged the enemy. In two minutes there would be total bedlam in that corridor…exactly the way Draco wanted it. He hadn't planned on the whole of Gryffindor house accompanying Potter. Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't be able to hold them for ten minutes, or anything like that, but that didn't matter. All the needed to do was create a big enough furball to get Snape's attention and that they were more than capable of doing.

Draco stopped at the entrance to the passageway and pushed the tapestry aside, "Go on…and well done," he flashed the kid a little grin.

"Ok," she was still a little out of breath from her sprint, "It was fun," she handed Draco Potter's wand, "Here."

Draco took the wand and grinned. 'Potter's wand…oh the fun I could have with this.' Flashes of ransom notes and convoluted pranks drifted before his eyes, stretching his grin momentarily. Then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

"Go on," he urged Heather into the passage, he had to get moving. Heather obeyed, but she only got five steps before Draco called her back, there was something he had to know, "Why did you really help me?" he asked her.

Heather shrugged. "Like I said, it was fun. And I wanted to see if I could do it," she grinned wickedly, "Guess I could, huh?"

"You could at that," Draco nodded, "Good enough, now scat!"

She ran off into the shadows. 'Ten galleons well spent!' Draco thought, then he shook his head. 'That kid is going to be real trouble when she grows up.'

Draco turned and tucked Potters wand into his robes. He paused to listen to the battle raging down the corridor…it sounded like a riot was in full swing…great! Draco settled his mind and set off toward Snape's office.

* * *

Hermione slunk into the shadows just around the corner from Professor Snape's office door. The sound of the fight was near deafening to her. There was no way that Professor Snape would miss it, if he was in his office that is. Draco had timed this to take place just at the end of lunch. He claimed that Snape was a creature of habit, and hence would spend his meal time correcting student assignments. She checked her watch, the it was a full minute since she had heard the first sign of the fight. Draco had said that he'd need at least two to skirt the edge of the conflict zone and meet her here, but she had her assignment to complete first. Swallowing hard, she stepped out of the shadows and walked calmly to Professor Snape's door.

She knocked it and heard Snape moving around inside. Hermione felt herself start to sweat as the Potions Professor opened the door. His cold gaze locked onto her for a moment. "Miss Granger, what…" he stopped, hearing the sounds of the fight, "What is going on?" he scowled.

Hermione tried to look innocent. "I don't know professor, I wanted to talk to you about the assignment that I handed in on Monday…have…have you had the chance to correct it yet?"

Professor Snape glared at her. An extra loud crash floated down the corridor. Professor Snape's head lurched to the side. He seemed to forget that she was even standing there. With a face like thunder, he bowled past her and stormed off down the corridor, muttering icily under his breath. Hermione swallowed hard. Professor Snape looked ready to kill, she wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of his temper at the moment. The door to his office started to swing closed. Quick as a flash she stepped forward and jammed her toe into the doorframe to hold the door open. That was her only job, keep the door from closing behind him. Simple as it had sounded, it was not a good position to be caught in. 'Come on Draco…don't leave me hanging here.'

She looked in panic up and down the corridor, listening hard for approaching footsteps. A hand landed on her shoulder. Hermione jumped and released the door in fright.

"It's only me," Draco hissed in her ear. He moved forward and caught the door before it could close.

'Where the hell did he come from?' she thought.

Draco frowned at her. "You should relax…we aren't out of this yet." He pressed something into her hand. "Here, spoils of war," he grinned. His head darted down the corridor in the direction of Snape's retreat. "Keep your eyes open…warn me if he comes back."

"Wait," Hermione called him back, "What if he comes back and I can't warn you in time?"

Draco's eyes narrowed in concern. "Just hang in there," he said calmly, "Do the best you can, and wish me luck."

There was a flash of a grin and he was gone. Hermione looked down at Harry's wand in her hand. 'What the hell am I going to do with this?' The door closed over silently behind Draco, but remained open just a crack. Hermione pocketed the wand and moved off a ways down the corridor, torn between wanting to stay close to Draco, so she'd know the second he was finished, and watching for the first sign of Professor Snape's return. Already she could hear his voice cutting through the din of the fight. He'd have to restore order, then he would roar and yell…dole out punishments…yell some more…but how long would it take him? Did Draco have enough time?

Hermione froze stiff as the growling in her head started up for no apparent reason. "Well, well," Etean's voice sounded behind her, "What do we have here?"

Hermione spun to face him. Instantly she was even more on edge. Etean was leaning lazily against the wall on the far side of Professor Snape's office, looking at her with an odd twinkle in his eye. Hermione first thought that it was merely the way that the candlelight reflected of them, but the more she looked, the surer she became that his eyes were really glowing slightly. "What are you doing here?" she asked, cursing the definite shake in her voice.

Etean's face split into a slight smile. "My, we are jumpy today, Granger…whatever could the matter be?"

Hermione found her eyes darting to the open door. There wasn't a sound from inside. What would happen if Etean found out? Could they trust him…probably…hell, he'd saved Draco's life for Merlin's sake. But Hermione wasn't sure if Draco trusted him enough for this. He hadn't mentioned telling him…this plan involved Crabbe and Goyle, Hermione and Draco and Draco's little friend…that was it. Draco had warned her to keep it that way. Still he was another pair of eyes to watch for Professor Snape, and he was already here. Could she risk it? The growl in her head wouldn't let her mind settle enough to make a decision. Frustrated, Hermione decided that discretion was the best policy. If he found out on his own, then she'd deal with it, but she wasn't going to tell him.

"Who says anything is the matter?" she tried to sound nonchalant, "I'm just waiting to see Professor Snape."

"Is that a fact? What a co-incidence, so am I." he drawled.

'Fuck…That means he isn't just going to push off…FUCK!'

Etean rolled his eyes. "I take it," he sighed, "that he isn't in?"

"No," Hermione got an idea, "He's down there actually," she pointed off toward the fight over her shoulder, "There's quite a show going on from what I heard."

Etean looked past her, and grinned wickedly. "Is that right?"

He seemed interested. Hermione's hopes rose a notch. "Yeah…old Snape is gone thundering down there like a mad bull to sort it out. He'll be tearing strips of whoever's involved. Should be quite a sight," she forced out a giggle.

"Is that so?" Professor Snape's oily voice froze Hermione's gut solid. He sounded like he was right behind her.

'Oh holy hell no!' Hermione was shaking like a leaf as she turned round. Just as she thought, Snape was glowering at her.

"Miss Granger, you know full well that that is not the correct way to refer to a member of staff," Snape's voice was cold and dry, "I'll thank you not to do it again. Losing five points should help to remind you."

"Sorry Professor." 'Five points? Why not ten? Why not fifty?' Hermione's mind raved in panic, 'Come on, ball me out…tear into me…just don't go into your office!' Professor Snape seemed to be finished with her though. He moved toward his office, Hermione had to fight to stop herself from tackling him. What the hell was she going to do now? Snape grunted at her and moved toward his office again. "Professor?" she called.

"What?" he growled at her as he rounded on his toes to face her again.

"Erm…the essay I was asking about…" she sounded weak and hollow and Hermione knew it.

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed at her. "I have not yet graded it…and I should not have to remind you that you are subject to the same rules as everyone else. You will receive your grade when the rest of the class receives theirs."

Professor Snape turned away and pushed his door open. Hermione nearly screamed. Her mind raced. He was going to catch Draco in the act of raiding his stores. He was going to explode at any second. Had Draco heard him coming? How long could he hide? Hermione was panicking now. What was she going to do?

Professor Snape's foot had crossed the threshold when Etean's voice stopped him. "Professor," he said with a mirthful air, "If you don't mind my asking," he nodded down the corridor, "What exactly was going on? It sounded like a hell of a fracas."

Professor Snape scowled and looked over his shoulder at Hermione. "It seems Mr Potter has lost his wand and," he turned back to Etean, "as he is want to do, he decided to cast the blame on the nearest Slytherin. He and his cohorts accosted Mr Goyle and Mr Crabbe over the matter."

"They did?" Etean paused to shake his head, "Professor, I hope you don't mind my saying so, but it strikes me as seriously odd that Potter hasn't been expelled for some of his antics over the years…"

Hermione's jaw dropped open. She didn't care that Etean was only talking like that to get further into Professor Snape's good books. She didn't care that he sounded like a smarmy, brownnosing git. Snape had moved away from his door to speak to Etean, and he had his back turned! Whether it was by accident or design, Robert Etean had just become the very distraction she needed. Now, where was Draco? She stared at the door…nothing. It just sat there, wide open. No movement, no shadow slinking out. Etean laughed at something Snape had said. Hermione nearly wretched at the sound of him fawning over the Professor like that, the growling in her head grew louder. She felt her skin start to crawl. Snape entered the office…still no Draco. Etean continued his simpering brownnosing as he followed Professor Snape inside his office and shut the door behind him. All was lost! The world started to cave in on Hermione. She stood rooted to the spot, waiting for the inevitable explosion when Draco was spotted. The seconds ticked past. She couldn't imagine how he had evaded Snape's eyes for this long.

She let out a strangled cry as a hand clasped over her mouth. She was powerless to resist as she was spun round and dragged into the shadows. A scent filled her nostrils. Her nose recognised it, but her mind just wouldn't believe it. Draco! It was unmistakable. The musky smell of him mixed with the hint of his aftershave…it had to be him. The scent of Draco lifted her. He had escaped! How? How could he be here? How could he have gotten out around Snape without being seen?

"Pleased to see me?" he whispered in her ears. Hermione could hear the traces of a fading burst of adrenaline in his voice. With her head pressed into him, she could hear and feel his heart pounding.

Her spirit soaring, Hermione locked her arms around him and kissed him as hard as she could. She felt her own heart racing with his. Relief, joy and sheer disbelief flooded through her as they kissed. When they parted, she looked up at his face. "How?" she asked when she could force herself to speak.

Draco smiled down at her. "Trade secrets, my girl…the important thing is that I got what we needed. Now come on before we do get caught."

He caught her hand and dragged her off down the corridor before she could say another word.

* * *

Etean stood facing Snape's desk. Draco had escaped…just. What would he have done if Etean hadn't been there? What was he thinking? Breaking into Snape's office in the middle of the day was bad enough, but using Granger for a lookout? Shit, Snape had damn near walked into her before she saw him. Etean had sensed Draco's plight from the second Snape had opened the door, and he had had to think fast. He had sensed Potter's anger earlier and had guessed that all the noise was down to him. Pushing Snape's 'Potter button' was the only thing he could do to buy Draco the precious seconds he needed to escape. What the hell was he doing in here? Etean scanned the room, looking for something, a trace of Draco's actions. His eyes settled on a display cabinet. There was a ring of dust beside the leg, a clear signal to anyone that was looking that the thing had been moved. 'Well done Malfoy, you idiot.'

Etean shook his head politely as Snape offered him a cup of tea. 'What is it with the English and tea?' Etean couldn't stand the stuff, but it seemed that everyone in this bloody country over the age of sixteen was an addict. He returned his attention to the dust. Whatever Draco was up to, it was probably for the best that he didn't get caught. As innocently as he could he flicked his finger and muttered a charm. A tiny gust of wind, undetectable unless you happened to be standing in its path, moved from the tip of his index finger and blew the dust away. Satisfied that there was no trace left of Draco's incursion, Etean set him aside and added another point to the debt that Draco owed him. He smiled and continued to blankly feign interest as Snape recanted the myriad of calamities that Harry Potter had gotten himself into. The man seemed to take each one as a personal affront. Yet there was something resigned about Snape's tone. It was almost as though he felt a responsibility to the boy. He almost sounded like a father discussing his wayward offspring. Etean instantly pushed that thought out. It was too weird for words.

Snape cleared his throat. "But come now…I didn't call you here to discuss Potter, did I?"

Etean shook his head. "No, Professor, your note said something about travel arrangements for next Friday?"

Snape paused. "Yes…we will be discussing that, there are preparations to be made. We do have something else to discuss first I'm afraid…a somewhat more important matter."

This wasn't what Etean had been expecting. "Professor?"

"Yes…Professor Dumbledore asked me to have a word with you. He would have preferred to do this himself, but his affairs in London are most pressing at the moment."

"I understand, Professor."

"I believe that you do, and so, it seems, does the Headmaster. Before we begin however, and before we discuss what we are to discuss, I must first secure your promise that, whatever the result of this conversation, it will go no further than this room. Professor Dumbledore has asked that I apologise for having to ask this, but he assures me that your word will bind you, and that you will understand the concerns later."

Dumbledore wanted his word on a blind assurance? What did the old codger have up his sleeve now? "I see," Etean nodded, this was bound to be complicated, but it sounded interesting, "well, confused as I am, if Professor Dumbledore wants my word of secrecy, he has it."

Snape studied Etean carefully for a moment, and then nodded. He reached into his desk drawer and took out a sealed envelope. Etean recognised the Hogwarts seal on the back. "Now then," Snape cleared his throat again, "Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?"


	48. Potions for Dummies

Poppy Pomfrey's head slumped forward. Etean moved his hand quickly to catch her before she injured herself. He set her head down gently and then carefully removed the file folder from beneath her. He dropped it open on the desk and moved the candle over toward him so he could read:

_'Granger, Hermione Jane, Gryffindor._'

Etean's eyes scanned the page before him. He couldn't make head or tail of it. To the untrained eye, Medical wizards and witches have a written language all their own. Years of writing long, complicated words very fast had reduced their handwriting skills about the same standard as a brain-dead newt. Normally, only the first two letters are legible, the rest being a single wavering line. Etean didn't need to read most of what he saw though, he was looking for something in particular…something that he hoped he wouldn't find.

He turned the page and was greeted by a block of numbers…test results. Etean had read enough of these to recognise the results of blood analysis when he saw it. He scanned the numbers, making some mental calculations as he went. He checked the date, this test was several weeks old. He flipped over, to reveal another set of numbers from a test dated two days after the first one. Etean noted the differences and checked his sums…not good. The next page told a similar story, if anything it was worse. The disease was accelerating. Only one day had passed between these tests, but the change was akin to a period of six weeks. Etean sighed, Pomfrey was onto it, he just knew it. The next page, and the final blood test ended all doubts. Madam Pomfrey had highlighted several of the numbers…exactly the right ones, Etean noted. 'Damn!'

His eyes travelled down to the bottom of the page. Pomfrey had made a note, about the only legible one in the whole file. Etean looked at it, letting the words sink into his head. He had allowed himself to hope that she wouldn't figure it out, but realistically, how could she miss it? Of all people, Poppy Pomfrey wouldn't miss this. He sighed and read it again:

'_Nailar's__ Syndrome!__ HOW?'_

Etean's jaw clenched tight. He ground his teeth together and pounded his fist on the table, knocking over the candle stick in the process. Madam Pomfrey's head bounced on the wood but she didn't wake. Etean looked at the test results again, this was wrong. It was too soon, too fast. Those numbers had to be a mistake. He turned back again, the other numbers played them out. She couldn't have made three mistakes, could she?

He shook his head, no she couldn't have. Etean snarled to himself, there was only one explanation. He reached inside his robes and found the tiny bottle… 'Duncan! Damn you!'

He righted the candle, cleaned up the dribbled wax and returned the folder to its place beneath the sleeping matron before he stormed out of the Hospital Wing, touching his cloak to hide him as an afterthought.

The castle was a blur before him as he stalked up the stairs to the Owlery. He felt like screaming, he felt like murder, he felt betrayed and someone was going to pay for it. He slammed the door open, much to the disgust of the few owls that weren't out for a night of hunting. Etean didn't bother to scan the rafters for Regal, instead he lifted his arm and whistled.

There was a flutter of wings and then he felt the familiar twinge of pain as the eagle's claws dug into his skin. Regal seemed to pick up on his mood, he eyed him warily as he was carried to the window ledge. Etean conjured a scrap of parchment and a quill, he bend his head and wrote:

'_London__ NOW_'

He rolled the note up and sealed it with his ring before tying it to Regal's leg. The bird hissed and nipped at him as he roughly did the bond but Etean was too angry to care. He didn't even feel the prick of Regal's beak as it tore his thumb open.

"Stop that," he barked at him. The bird settled and glared at him. "Now," Etean spoke clearly and slowly, "I want you to find Duncan and get this to him before morning!"

Regal looked at him for a moment and then hopped to the ledge and took to the sky. Etean watched but instantly lost him amid the clouds. The sky seemed angry. It matched his mood. Someone was going to pay dearly for this!

* * *

Draco sat on the bed, leafing half heartedly through his charms textbook. He had to force himself not to stare at Hermione for too long. The honest truth was that he didn't trust himself when he did. They had maintained an unspoken agreement thus far about what she was and wasn't comfortable with. That was fine by Draco, just being near her was a thrill for him sometimes, still there were times, like now for instance, that he couldn't force himself to stop fixating on certain parts of her anatomy that he longed to explore. He shook his head and looked back to his book. Charms homework wasn't the best distraction…he felt as though the only thing that would work would be medication…valium or the like…but charms was all he had to hand. He stared at the index, and frowned. He found to his surprise that he was familiar with almost every charm in the book. He looked up for a second at Hermione, feeling a surge of surprise at her deviousness as the realisation hit him. It was because of her. In the mad flurry of studying that she had steered him through after his three week absence from class, Hermione had not only covered every page of the work he'd missed, she'd also managed to give him a grounding in the entire course. Now whenever Flitwick would chatter on about some new charm that he was supposed to have read about in preparation for class, Draco would find that he actually did. He shook his head, she'd turned him into a bookworm and he hadn't even seen it coming.

Watching her fuss and mutter as she took the cauldron off the fire and stirred her potion, that was only now coming together after a week of work; it occurred to Draco that he'd changed her too. "What would McGonagall say if she saw you now?"

"Hmmm?" Hermione asked without looking round.

Draco stood up and walked over to her. He couldn't take watching her any longer, he had to hold her. He moved in behind her and wrapped his arms round her waist. "I was just thinking," he whispered, resting his chin on her shoulder, "That if McGonagall were to see you now, her favourite student, sneaking about and brewing illicit potions in the wee small hours of the night, what do you think she'd say?"

Hermione paused, measuring spoon in hand and shook her head. "She'd most likely give me a years worth of detention and take about a hundred house points…just to show her disappointment in me." The sour tone in her voice was evident. She tipped the contents of the spoon into the cauldron, rising a hiss and a puff of steam.

Draco imagined that her prediction was accurate, though he decided not to mention his belief that if McGonagall caught _him_ doing this, then there probably wouldn't even be enough left of him for a burial. "You're probably right," he said, turning his face to nuzzle her neck. The proximity to her bare skin was intoxication itself…or maybe it was the potion…yes that had to be it. The potion had, over the last few hours, developed a rather heady aroma. The smell reminded Draco oddly enough of a lazy day by the pool at Malfoy manner, hours on end with nothing to do…freedom. He could almost picture it.

He shook himself, that potion must be really strong to stink like that. Already they'd had to seal the room with every anti-odour spell they knew to prevent it from stinking up the hallways. Draco moved in closer behind Hermione and nuzzled into her neck. Whether it was the potion or his own hormones, Draco wasn't sure, but he was hungry. He peppered the line of her neck up to her jaw line with kisses and then back down with gently nips from his teeth. The sweet aroma of the potion filled his nostrils at every breath, sending his head spinning. Was this affecting her like this too? He reached up to tug her shirt collar out of his way before he continued down to her collarbone. There was a distant clatter as the measuring spoon fell to the floor unheeded. Yes, it was! Draco slowly encircled her and joined his hands over her navel. Hermione let out a tiny moan when she felt his teeth connect with her skin once more. Draco bit down, not hard, just enough to show her his intention. He got a second moan and carried on, increasing the pressure and sucking hard until she groaned a third time.

Draco drew back and looked at her skin. In the pale moonlight her flesh shone like alabaster. He smiled when he saw the start of a rosy welt ringed by the indentations of his teeth. Draco's smile widened. 'The dragon leaves his mark!' Her skin was damp where his mouth had been. Draco blew gently across it. Hermione reacted as though she'd been electrocuted. Her whole body shuddered and bucked against his hold. Draco held her tight and got back to raining kisses on her pearly skin. As he traversed back up her neck, Hermione let her head loll backward and then leaned it to the side, granting Draco better access to carry on. Draco crossed the line of her jaw and continued up her cheek to her ear. As he gently nibbled on her tiny little lobe, the last vestige of sensible thought screamed through to his brain.

"The potion," he whispered. His hands split from her stomach and moved to her hips, "is it done for now?"

Hermione nodded slightly, her jaw worked a couple of times with no sound emanating. "Ungh…yes," she managed, "Now we just have to…" she gasped as he closed for another gentle bite behind her ear, "let it stand as it is for…a day…"

"Good," Draco hissed. He resumed his lavishing attention on her neck, a little more greedily this time. Slowly he inched his hands higher along her waist to the bottom of her ribs. There they stopped. Draco waited, determined that he should play this game by her rules. If Hermione wanted this to continue, she'd have to tell him. It was an odd game of a sort, to continually shift control back and forth between them like this, but it was a sport that Draco found he thoroughly enjoyed. His fingers continued their hover, gentle caressing her in small circular motions, varying in speed and pressure to entice her decision.

Hermione started to shake ever so slightly. Her breathing became erratic and forced. Draco traded kissing for licking the inflamed skin of her neck. He heard Hermione gasp at the touch of his tongue. Her jaw worked again and her head moved from side to side, savouring his attention while at the same time searching for more. She started to arch her back, her body moving against the pressure of his hands. Still Draco restrained himself. The sight of her chest heaving mere inches from his face made him dizzy, but he held on. At last he got what he wanted. He heard a faint rumble start in the back of Hermione's throat. In seconds it had risen to a full, audible growl. Draco smiled in satisfaction. He had never heard a girl growl like that. He'd known girls that moan, girls that whimper, even one girl that liked to hum to show her appreciation, but never a growler before. Draco found that as unusual as it was, he liked it…a lot. Maybe it was some throwback to mankind's origins amongst the animals that no amount of breeding could eradicate, or maybe he was just a bit of a pervert, he didn't care. Even the sound of it now intoxicated him. He felt himself start to stiffen instantly.

Hermione had asked for more of his attention, and more she was going to get. He let his hands move. He could only feel the contact with his left hand, it took a degree of concentration to keep the pressure even from both hands, but he was determined not to hurt her. His fingers slid over her ribs slowly. Draco could almost count each one. He reached her armpits and then started back down again the way he had come. This was what Hermione had asked for, but Draco knew that it wasn't what she wanted. Her body was practically writhing against him now. He moved his hands again, circling the top of her heaving breasts quickly before returning to the side of her ribs. The growl in her throat intensified, as did her movements. Her own arms moved backward. Draco shivered as she took hold of his belt and heaved him toward her, increasing the pressure between their bodies. Surely she could feel his erection now. Draco had deliberately been avoiding that, it was normally a red light moment for her. Tonight however, it wasn't.

The growl rose again as he continued to caress her. Draco could feel it rumbling through him now, a constant deep vibration running right down to his toes. He knew she wouldn't let him tease her for much longer. He kissed his way back to her ear. "Do you like this?" he asked in between nibbles. He squeezed a little harder to show her what he meant.

"Ungh…." was the only answer. Draco got the impression that she was beyond words right now. He smiled, a deep sense of giddiness settling over him.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked playfully.

Draco knew the answer he wanted, it was the one he had expected. He didn't expect what he got. Hermione's whole body tensed suddenly. Her back arched and her head spun. All Draco saw was a blur of hair before his eyes before her teeth closed on the side of his neck. Hermione bit down hard and held on. The growl in her throat rose to a snarl that held level as she hung on. The sudden pain slammed into Draco's wandering mind and snapped it into focus. The sheer animal viciousness of it startled Draco, but he got the message. Hermione wanted to play rough? Fine by him. His hands moved up and cupped both of her breasts in a single motion. He held the contact lightly for a moment, and then his fingers started to knead and massage her breasts slowly and rhythmically. Hermione's body started to move with him once more. She released her bite, but kept her teeth next to his neck. The growl remained level as a warning for him not to stop. He gradually increased the pressure of his fingers, harder and harder. Each time he squeezed, she growled at him to continue until, finally, his fingers closed around her nipples in a final vice-like grip.

Hermione made a sound that sounded strangely like a howl and kicked out hard. Her shoe collided with the potion cauldron.

CLANG!

The sound reverberated around the room, deep and resonating. Draco and Hermione both turned to stare at the cauldron. The potion inside glooped merrily, unharmed, but the damage was done. Just as the school bell signalled the end of their classes, the deep gong of the cauldron had signalled the end of their fun. The sound seemed to shatter the moment, at least as far as Hermione was concerned. She tensed for a moment and then shrank in his arms, pulling away from him in sudden embarrassment. Draco moved to hold onto her.

She pulled her hands from his waist and brought them together over her mouth. "D..Draco," she stammered, "s…ss…stop."

Draco let her go and took a breath. "Ok," he whispered and moved away. He walked somewhat stiffly back to the bed and sat down. His head felt fuzzy…it seemed hard to concentrate on anything. His neck throbbed. He lifted his fingers and touched the sore spot. To his horror, they came away bloody.

Hermione let out a startled cry. Draco's head snapped around to look at her. She was standing by the cauldron, staring at her hands. Draco could see from where he was sitting that her lips and teeth were covered in blood, his blood. He got to his feet and headed toward her. She spun to look at him. Her eyes settled on his neck and she screamed.

"Calm down," he reached out and took hold of her forcibly by the shoulders, "it's ok?"

"Calm down?" she wailed, "How can I calm down? Look what I…I did that…that…"

Hermione's eyes seemed to unfocus for a second. She mumbled something and then slumped sideways. Draco had to move fast to catch her before she hit the floor hard. He cradled her in his arms. "Hermione," he roared at her. Her eyes rolled about, trying to focus on him but she wasn't succeeding. Draco called her again and again. He coughed, the smell of the potion was suddenly very strong. Draco was starting to feel light headed again. The potion…it was giving off fumes. His numbed mind roared at him, telling him what he had to do. With all the focus and balance he could muster, he stood up and lifted Hermione with him. Outside, they needed air. He moved toward the door, staggering slightly on shaky knees. The fumes of the potion were starting to sting his eyes.

With every ounce of concentration he possessed, Draco made it to the door and staggered down the stairs. Once free of the room, his senses started to clear. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs he was able to think clearly again. Hermione shifted in his arms, she was starting to come around too. Draco opened the door with a mighty kick and stepped out into the chilled night air of the corridor. He carefully set Hermione down before crossing to the window and hurling it open. Freezing cold but deliciously fresh air wafted in and down into his lungs. Draco stood there, drinking in the icy goodness until at last his brain stopped bubbling and his body started to feel normal again. He turned to Hermione. She was sitting by the wall, muttering to herself, looking totally zoned out. He walked back to her and hauled her to her feet without a word. He looped her arm over his shoulder and half carried her to the window. "Deep breaths," he commanded, rubbing her back to help her.

Hermione slumped against him and sucked in the night air. She started to shiver, but Draco wasn't going to let her leave the window until she was able to stand unassisted. Slowly she regained her balance and strength. He found he had to hold her less and less. She continued to mutter under her breath, words that Draco couldn't make out, but she seemed to think that she was talking to someone. He turned round and sat with his back to the night air to get a better look at her. He took hold of her shoulders and moved her closer to him. "Hermione?" he asked.

She jumped and stared at him. "Draco?" she seemed very confused, "What…where are we?"

"In the corridor outside the Hospital wing," he explained slowly, giving his words the chance to sink in, "That potion of yours puts out some pretty strong fumes," he frowned at her, "Do you remember any of what just happened?"

She looked at him for several long moments, and then nodded. "We were mixing the potion…then you were talking…then you were behind me…then…" she stopped and stared at his neck, "Oh my god, you're bleeding."

Draco only now remembered his neck, it hardly hurt anymore. "It's ok, probably looks worse than it really is."

Hermione stared intently at his wound. "Did…I do that?"

"Yes, but," Draco rubbed her shoulders as her eyes widened in shock. He didn't want her to faint again, "like I said…those were some pretty strong fumes…things got a little crazy before I realised what was happening."

"Oh Draco," she whimpered, "I am so sorry," she started rummaging through her pockets, "here let me fix…"

"Shhh," he cut her off, catching hold of her hand, "It's fine really," he smiled at her, "Doesn't even hurt." He leaned over to her and kissed her gently, "really." He smiled in an effort to convince her.

Hermione sighed and rested her head on his chin. "I'm so, so sorry," she repeated, "I don't know how that happened…I just…"

"The book didn't mention anything about fumes?"

"No," she shook her head, "well there was one reference to brewing the potion out of doors, but I just assumed that was anecdotal…not that it was a safety precaution. Oh why didn't I do more research?"

Draco remembered the stack of books from whence this idea came. She couldn't have done more research, he postulated, without several spare sets of eyes. "It doesn't matter," he soothed her, "no harm done."

"But," she sniffed, "How are we going to check on the potion?"

Draco smiled, he should have known that she wouldn't give up on her potion so easily. "Well it's off the heat now, and you said it has to sit for a day, yes?"

"Yes."

"Well then, we wait till tomorrow before we check it. The fumes will have dissipated by then."

"You're probably right," she said miserably.

Hermione shivered. Draco had two options, close the window or give her a hug. He chose the latter, pursing his lips to kiss her forehead at the same time. "Of course I'm right, now don't fret."

He held her and said nothing, but in his mind a worry was growing. He wondered as to the power of this potion. If its vapours were that strong, what would its affects be like when Hermione drank it? He didn't voice his concern, but it grew and grew inside him. He was suddenly very unsure about this potion idea, but did he have another choice? Would Hermione turn from her course? No, she wouldn't. The idea of walking her off to Gryffindor, and then sneaking back here to vaporise the whole thing was starting to sound appealing. He felt a lump in his throat as he realised the consequences. Hermione would almost certainly never speak to him again. Draco didn't know if he could take that, but it was better than seeing her hurt.

His mind raced, searching for another alternative…there had to be something. He turned his head to the side. From this window he could see the vast dark mass of the forbidden forest. Dark and foreboding, just like his options. It did make him remember something though.

"Did you ever think about what I told you the other day?" he asked, "About the centaur…Firenze."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, and you were right, I don't think he can help."

'Or you don't want to tell him,' Draco thought. Her secrecy was going to be the death of him. It was Hermione's life, he had decided, and her decision, but suddenly he didn't care. One way or another, she was going to talk to someone before he let her drink that vile stuff up there, and he was only an animal after all. What did it matter what she told him? "Well I've been thinking, maybe we shouldn't dismiss the idea so quickly."

"I don't think it's a good idea, Draco," she said with a hint of fear in her voice.

"Well I do," he said, drawing her back to look her in the eye, "Don't I get a say in this?" She looked up at him with those amber eyes, filled now with fear and helplessness. Draco felt his spine melt. "Please, Hermione…I know you don't want anyone to know, but will you do this for me?"

"I don't know…do you really think he could help me?"

"I'm not sure…but can it hurt to ask?"

Draco stared at her, trying to let his eyes convince her. Finally, she relented. "Ok," she whispered.

* * *

Etean stalked silently past the Hospital wing, his mind still seething with anger. "Of all the stupid…" he couldn't even bring himself to voice his frustration. He just could not believe what the test results had confirmed, but it was true. He'd been spotting the signs for weeks now, he just hadn't allowed himself to register their meaning. Granger! She spun in his head, he couldn't think of anything else. Damn her…Damn that interfering idiot…Damn the lot of them.

He stopped outside the hidden entrance to the 'brewing chamber' as it had been labelled in Draco's thoughts. Right now, Draco was happily snoring, safe in the hope that everything would be alright. 'Innocent dreamer!' Etean thought. 'He has no idea.'

Etean straightened and looked at the wall. "Lupie!" he spoke the password. Granger had chosen it eh? How very odd…these visions as Draco called them were definitely an odd development. Etean passed through the opening and climbed the stairs. Instantly forgetting his thoughts as a wall of stench hit him on the threshold.

"Good Merlin," he choked, "What the hell are they brewing in here?"

Draco's thoughts had told him to expect a thick atmosphere, but this was something else. He flipped up his hood and took a section of the fabric into his mouth. If he breathed through it, the magical fabric would catch the fumes. That way at least he wouldn't suffocate. He climbed the stairs and entered the room. Just as he thought, it was deserted. He could almost see the fumes in the air. They wouldn't clear by morning. When Draco came back in, he'd probably pass out before he made it two steps. Etean raised his hand and concentrated on a suction spell. His fingers glowed as the spell formed. It sucked all the vapour into a tiny concentrated ball which solidified into a non-descript grey lump in his palm. Etean slipped it into his pocket and pulled his hood down, glad to be able to breathe once more.

He turned his attention to the cauldron. 'Granger's salvation?' he laughed silently, 'We'll see about that, won't we?'

He reached into his robes and searched for a few moments until he found what he was looking for. He extracted the small jar and held it up to the light. He counted thirteen little white lumps floating in a sickly green liquid. His blood chilled and his skin itched just looking at them. It was hard to imagine that the value of what he held in his hand far exceeded the total combined fortunes of every pureblood in Slytherin a dozen times over.

He looked down at the potion. It had to sit and settle for at least another fourteen hours according to Draco's mind, plenty of time. He carefully undid the lid of the jar and fished one of the pieces. He held it up to the light and peered at it. The small, diamond shaped sliver was partially translucent to the light, a sign of its purity. Etean hesitated, he had to leave for London just after first light, which would mean he wouldn't be present to witness the results of what he was about to do, but that was probably for the best. He tossed the sliver into the open cauldron, watching as it sizzled and sank into the gloom. The whole potion surged for several seconds before it settled again, apparently no different than before.

Etean smiled as he closed the jar and secreted it into his robes, "Bottoms up, Granger!"

_A/N: Here yes are – this be short, but you is getting two in one night_

_Gotta__ go now and finalise evil schemes for the next exciting leg of this joyride_


	49. A Flight with the Stars

The sun dawned over Hogwarts. From his perch at the top of the Astronomy Tower, Etean watched it make its daily appearance with no trace of emotion. His mind was spread so thin across the world around him that it was only a shade that squinted and shielded his eyes against the sudden glare. Something in the sunrise triggered a thought, which triggered a reaction, which pulled Etean's mind in on itself slowly. Awareness returned gradually; he let his eyes slide closed as the scattered threads united in his skull.

He had somewhere to be, and he needed to be there with a straight mind to get through this. He took a breath and scanned the horizon again once more, once more longing for the simple freedom of gliding on a thermal. The birds were already awake; he could see them skimming the treetops merrily despite the frigid air. A single speck on the very edge of his gaze caught his attention. As he watched, the speck grew larger and then separated into two specs which in turn grew to become carriages. 'Right on time!'

There was only one thing about the impending trip to London that didn't make Etean's head hurt, at least he would be travelling in style. Precisely how in the name of heaven Professor Snape had managed to learn so much about those carriages, the properties of which were a guarded Etyar secret, was beyond him. He hadn't been able to hide his shock when Snape had asked to use them for this little sojourn. A shock that only grew more pronounced as the Professor explained his intentions, and his reason for needing them. In a string of insane ideas that had managed to twist their way into Etean's life over the last week, Snape's certainly had to take the cake.

The carriages were in full view now, the nearer one being pulled by his personal team of silver Hippogriffs. Etean smiled as he watched their wings beat the air with solemn strength. He hadn't chosen them, rather they had been presented to him years ago as a present, but they were fine animals, and they did their job well. In terms of beauty and strength, they were unsurpassed, each a flawless copy of the others. Not that the other team was any the lesser. The second carriage was pulled by a mixed team of gold and russet coloured beasts. They lacked the symmetry and purity of the others, but in flight they bore the mark of breeding and of expert training to their task at the hands of an Etyar Beastmaster. Theirs was a lesser, if by no means unimportant part to play in Snape's little plan, and they would perform magnificently.

Etean shook his head, there was no time to be wasting here, there were things he should be doing; he had a war to save. The sound of his own quiet sarcasm made him grin. This was going to be a long day. 'Fuck it!'

Snarling slightly at the stiffness in his legs, Etean hoisted himself off the railing and dropped onto the floor. How long had he been sitting there? He didn't know…hours maybe, time had a way of dragging out when one is annoyed and frustrated. He silently made his way through the tower to the stairs. All was quiet, few people in Hogwarts would be up at this hour, this was the time known only to insomniacs and House Elves. It was a silent time, a private hour for contemplation. Ordinarily, he would have this time to himself, but this morning Etean knew he would not be the only one awake. Somewhere in the castle, those that were to be accompanying him on this little trip would by now be dressed and headed, nice and refreshed, to the designated meeting point by the doors. Etean put on an air of false energy as he joined the main staircase at the fourth floor and headed down.

Roughly fifteen students had been invited to the ceremony, but some had declined, or were encouraged to decline by wary families. As a result, Etean had been asked to make travel arrangements for ten people: Professors McGonagall and Snape, Ravenclaw Terry Boot, whose uncle was amongst the fallen Aurors from the early days of the war, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff; Susan's uncle was a victim of Voldemort's first campaign while Hannah's brother had recently been moved from the missing to the presumed dead list after the Battle of Coventry, Etean himself was the only Slytherin to even be invited, while Ginny, Harry, Ron and Neville Longbottom rounded out the list. The numbers reflected something of the makeup of the conflict so far. The Gryffindors were the classical, heroic wand fodder; dying in large numbers in glorious battle, theirs was the largest contingent; the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were caught in the crossfire, and wanted no part of any publicity even if they couldn't avoid the pain; while the Slytherins had thus far been spared, Etean only being invited for political reasons.

As Etean descended the stairs he saw through the doors that the hippogriffs had pulled the carriages up to a site near, but not too near the castle. The imposing walls wouldn't have appealed to them. Several students had wasted no time in moving out to examine the carriages. Etean noted from the lack of blood and severed limbs that they were no strangers to handling hippogriffs. He passed Neville Longbottom and Terry Boot standing in the doorway, shivering slightly as they kept their distance from the carriages, and the razor sharp claws of the Hippogriffs. The rest didn't share their caution. He could see Harry and Ron petting Thuban, the lead beast of the second team while Ginny had her attention focussed on Altair, the head of his team. Etean smiled at her choice, she had taste.

A chilly December breeze pushed through Etean's cloak and raised goose bumps on his skin as he left the shelter of Hogwarts. He was five paces from Altair, and Ginny's back, when the beast's roving golden eye levelled at him. Etean stopped and bowed. After only a moment's hesitation, Altair and his partner both bowed back and allowed Etean approach.

"They're beautiful," Ginny cooed at him as he moved up beside her and stroked Altair's beak, noting that the husbands had polished it to a mirror shine.

"That they are," he responded, turning his attention to the redhead. "You aren't afraid?"

Ginny shook her head. "I have been around Hippogriffs lots of times. Once you respect them, they aren't any trouble. Are these yours?" she asked quizzically.

"What makes you say that?"

Ginny caught his hand and held it up so that his ring was beside the clasp on Altair's chest. "I recognized this," she said with a grin.

'Observant little witch.' Etean was impressed, to notice such a small detail when petting a quarter ton of Hippogriff was no small feat. He nodded. "Well spotted, yes," he patted Altair's flank and smiled, "they're mine. Meet Altair!" he said with a flourish. As though on cue, the Hippogriff brandished his head proudly and clicked his beak.

Ginny smiled and frowned. "Altair?"

"Yes," Etean nodded, "Named for the brightest star in the constellation Aquilla."

"Aquilla?" Ginny paused in thought. "That's the Eagle constellation, right?"

Etean grinned. "But naturally…good to see that those astronomy classes haven't been wasted on you." He put his arm around her and drew her away from the carriage. "All my hippogriffs are named for the stars," he pointed to Harry, "That one is called Thuban, centuries ago that was the star that marked the North Pole," he looked down at her, "But of course, you knew that."

Ginny elbowed his ribs. "I did," she nodded forward, "What about the one Ron's petting?"

Etean looked up. "She's Rastaban, Thuban's companion in the heavens," he paused, "She's not normally so complacent. I guess she likes your brother or," he cocked his head to the side, "maybe she's just too tired from the journey here to properly maul him."

"I see," she said. Etean was surprised that she hadn't risen to that, she was normally quick to defend her family, no matter how often they bickered. He looked down at her. Ginny looked tired. 'She mustn't have slept much last night!' Etean put his other problems aside for the moment, glad to be able to fixate on her for a while. Ginny was not looking forward to this and Etean was well aware of why. The pain of losing her brother was still a raw wound for her. She was getting accustomed to it, but she was by no means over it. Today would, for her, be one long roll in a barrel of salt. Etean smiled at her, he knew how she felt.

He looked around. "Are we all here?"

Ginny shook her head. "We're still waiting for Hannah and Susan," she shivered and then paused to frown, "The eternal fire?"

Etean blinked. She was still trying to decipher his little message. He smiled. "Not even close," he narrowed his eyes at her, "that's the third guess, and I'm starting to see a pattern, maybe you should re-think your approach to the translation…Valkar is a tricky language."

"Maybe if you gave me a hint…"

Etean tapped her on the nose. "Not a chance." Ginny scowled. Etean looked up at Ron, who was busily grunting and sneering under his breath.

"A whole day with Snape and his new best friend…this is going to be fun," the sarcasm was practically dripping off his every word. Etean shook his head and turned back to Ginny, she was now busily reading a page of notes that she had pulled from somewhere. Etean recognised some Valkar symbols and grinned. 'Good luck kid!' With any luck that would keep her occupied all the way to London, at least, he hoped it would. Hopefully she wouldn't get frustrated by it. Something told him that she wouldn't get the translation…she wasn't on the right track at all, but this was a supposed to be a challenge after all, and she had asked.

Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones appeared at the entrance to the castle, along with Professors McGonagall and Snape. Both teachers looked fresh and awake, the same couldn't be said for the students, especially Hannah. Etean wondered for a moment just who had gotten the least sleep last night, her or Ginny?

"Ah good," McGonagall clucked, "We're all here I see." She washed her gaze around, taking in all of the faces. "Right then, those whom I call follow me, the rest of you, stay with Professor Snape."

McGonagall started to call names. Snape looked momentarily to Etean before nodding slowly. "Susan Bones…ah yes dear, over there," she pointed to the far carriage. Etean picked up on his cue and stepped back to Altair. He saw Snape turn and summon Potter to his side, no doubt to administer another harsh warning. Etean sighed as he patted Altair's head and stood on his toes to whisper his instructions in the silver Hippogriff's ear. Snape really needed to get over his Potter fixation…especially today.

McGonagall fell silent and nodded to Snape. "Everyone else over here," he ordered as he marched to the door of the lead carriage. Etean nodded as he walked past him toward Thuban. He bowed and then approached the beast. He had just finished giving her the flight details when Ginny appeared at his elbow. "How come I'm not going with you?"

Etean feigned ignorance. "Sorry?"

Thuban clicked his beak in agitation, Ginny hadn't bowed. Etean tightened his hold on the harness to stay the creature. "McGonagall says I have to go with her," Ginny sounded mildly sulky, "And you're supposed to go with Snape."

Etean looked around. He released Thuban's bridle and led Ginny away. "I didn't make up the groups, that was up to Snape."

Ginny grumbled incoherently. "Can't you say something to him?"

Etean laughed. "Like what?"

"Like…I don't know…they are your carriages, aren't they?"

He nodded and put his arm around her shoulder. "They are…and I suppose I could kick up a fuss, but, seriously, I don't see the point."

Ginny's face fell. "But I wanted to go with you."

'Believe me, that is just what you don't want to do!' "And I with you, but," he sighed, "It's only for a couple of hours and anyway," he looked around and then leaned into her ear conspiratorially, "would you really have been comfortable with Snape glaring at us the whole time?"

Ginny sighed. "No," she didn't sound happy, "I suppose not."

"Good," he grinned, "And while you have nothing else to do, you could always be working on that little puzzle of mine."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It isn't: The Perpetual Inferno, is it?"

"Nope," he said smugly, then let his voice draw into a sigh, "Ok then, I'll give you a hint," her face brightened, "If I were to say that to you; Odel Rohyen Sendere," he looked into her eyes, "I would hope you'd take it as a compliment."

Ginny's face twisted into a curious smile. She turned away sharply when she heard Professor McGonagall calling her name. "Coming," she piped. She turned back and gave Etean a peck on the cheek and ran over to the Professor.

Etean turned and walked toward Snape and the others who were waiting by the lead carriage for him. "Everything's set, Professor," he said, "You may board when ready."

Snape nodded. "Thank you," he turned and nodded to McGonagall before opening the door of the carriage and disappearing inside. Etean looked over to see McGonagall cajoling her students into their carriage. Ginny blew him a kiss before disappearing inside. Etean smiled and followed Snape in. He settled himself in the seat just inside the door. Ron was next, he scowled as he surveyed the interior. Harry and Neville followed and sat down without a word. Etean leaned out and closed the door. It slammed shut with a bang and they were off. The thud of the Hippogiffs' hooves rumbled up through the floor for a moment before it seemed to fall away entirely as they took to the air. Etean leaned his head to the right so as to observe the second carriage execute a similar flawless takeoff and fall into formation with them.

"This is nice," Neville Longbottom decided to break the heavy silence as they executed a long, slow bank in the air and headed south from the castle. He seemed to genuinely admire his surroundings.

Ron didn't seem impressed. "I still don't know why we couldn't take the Knight Bus!" he muttered.

"We would have," Snape answered him, "were the Knight Bus still in operation," the Professor sounded annoyed, "The Ministry has however suspended its service licence for the immediate future."

"But," said Ron, "they've already shut down the Flu Network connections into London, so how do people travel?"

"They don't, Weasley," Snape snapped at him.

Etean knew he was right, travel around Britain was certainly not a major concern for most people at the current time – survival took precedence. Safety wasn't the only reason though, the Ministry was also trimming its sails. With their resources spread so thin protecting their assets, guarding a mobile target like the Knight Bus was a waste of manpower. It had also been shut down, as Snape had taken great pains to explain to him, for reasons of security. Seeing as how anyone could make use of it, it would take no more effort than a careful disguise to allow the Death Eaters to summon it, and thus gain the means to travel about the land at will. The same was true of the Flu Network. It wasn't just London, the connections into and out of every major city had all been terminated. Only special, emergency lines were open, and they were all busy this morning, accommodating the other guests for the Minister's little dedication ceremony, come negotiation session. While Dumbledore could have perhaps argued for the inclusion of the Hogwarts party in the scheduled Portkey connections, the Headmaster had had something of a brainwave. Etean shook his head, this was not a good idea, but he had agreed, so… 'Here we go!'

He reached up and touched the small silver-set jewel hidden beneath the velvet drape of the window. He felt the air tingle slightly as the invisibility charm took hold. Anyone looking on from the other carriage now would have just witnessed theirs disappear from sight.

"I don't see why we had to split up," Neville was saying, "Hannah is really upset, I would have liked to have stayed with her."

He had a point; there was easily room enough for everyone in a single carriage. Etean sighed, Professor Snape's had explained his requirements clearly, as well as his reasons. Two carriages, two separate travelling groups and two separate journey plans. Splitting the group had doubled their individual chances of making the trip unscathed. Etean doubted if all of the precautions were necessary, his hippogriffs could fly rings around any potential attackers, but, theirs was going to be a little more than a simple coach ride, he had to remember.

"I don't know why we had to go with Snape!" Ron hissed under his breath, clearly hoping he wasn't going to be heard by the Professor.

"Weasley," Snape snapped, "Don't think that just because we are away from the school that you are immune from punishment. That remark will cost you ten points." Etean smirked despite himself, "And to answer your questions, you three are here so that I can keep an eye on you. We don't want any mischief. Mr Etean has been kind enough to lend us the use of these vehicles, and I will not see them damaged."

"Well thank you, Etean," Ron bit back smartly.

"Yes, Weasley," Snape snapped, "Thank you, is precisely the right thing to say. Now be quiet."

There was silence for several moments. Etean allowed himself to get lost in the sea of white mist rushing past the window as the carriage skimmed the surface of the cloud-tops.

"Isn't that the other coach?" Neville's voice broke the tranquillity of the moment. Etean turned to see him staring out of the window. He craned his neck to follow his gaze. The other carriage was indeed in view. It was lazily banking away from them in a wide turn. "Are they lost?"

"Where are they going?" Ron scowled. He turned to Etean. "What's going on?"

Etean merely shrugged at him. Ron's ears went pink. He turned to Snape. "Professor, Etean has done something to the other coach…they aren't following us."

Snape turned sharply. "And who said they were to follow us?"

"I don't understand," said Neville, "aren't they going to London the same as we are?"

"They are going to London, Longbottom, just as are we." Snape paused. Etean looked at him and then back to Harry. "They are just taking an alternate route, that's all."

Etean could see the cogs turning behind Harry's emerald eyes. "What's going on, Professor?" Ron sounded pensive.

Snape glanced at each expectant Gryffindor face in turn. 'You are going to have to tell them sometime, Snape,' Etean thought behind his mask of implacability.

"The reason, you three, that we split our party up, is security. Hogwarts is…being watched. Separate carriages and separate routes will make it all the harder for us to be followed…or intercepted."

Snape's final words hung in the air. Neville's face twisted into a strangely determined expression. The idea of being 'intercepted' as Snape had put it, was draining the colour from his cheeks, but beneath the shock lay a steel core. Ron's expression blanked; he sat back and said nothing. Etean was more interested in Potter though. He had turned his face away from Snape and was looking out the window…he seemed to grow distant.

Etean watched him silently. This was a bad idea, made worse by the inescapable pettiness of Snape's relationship with the Gryffindors. Etean understood his reasons for arranging things as he had. Even if no attack were planned, their departure would almost certainly have been witnessed. They had to maintain the pretence that all was normal. It was the only way to ensure that the plan could succeed. When Snape had explained his intentions, it was all that Etean could do not to laugh at him. Pointing out the pointlessness of it had been futile. Snape seemed to actually think there was something to be gained from this endeavour, and no amount of advice to the contrary would deter him. He claimed to be following Dumbledore's orders but, looking into his eyes now, Etean wasn't convinced of that. To him it seemed that the idea rang more of Snape's creativity than Dumbledore's. Though there was little doubt that the Headmaster knew about it, and had given his consent, Etean wondered just how much consideration Dumbledore had given it in reality. Had he merely trusted Snape's opinions in the matter? Etean sighed. Dumbledore seemed to be shifting a lot of decisions from himself these days and that was not a good sign.

Etean watched as Potter's eyes narrowed. "We aren't going straight to London, Ron," he said, speaking for the first time since they had taken off. "Are we, Professor?"

"No," Snape answered after the merest pause. His voice was, for once, free of scorn.

"So where are we going then?" Ron asked in an exasperated tone.

Potter turned, his eyes met Etean's, then Ron's and then finally settled on Snape's. "Coventry!" he said calmly to a stunned audience.

* * *

Hermione shut off the shower and smiled to herself as the last of the water cascaded out of her sopping wet hair and trickled down her face. The weird, giddy feeling that had been with her ever since she had woken up was still with her. A brisk, boiling hot shower had only accentuated it. She reached behind her neck and scooped up the bulk of her hair. It landed across her shoulders with a heavy slap, sending more water pouring down her back. She grinned giddily. 

Hermione turned to leave the shower. Her knee twitched suddenly just as her foot touched down. Hermione wasn't quick enough to stop her weight from transferring to her foot and it slipped awkwardly from beneath her. Over she went in a most undignified manner. Her shoulder collided with the tiles on the floor hard. Hermione swore loudly and then rolled onto her back. 'Ah well, at least no one saw me,' she thought with a half smile. Her shoulder started to throb as she sat up. She reached up to massage the red welt that she was sure would turn into a nasty bruise.

The pain brought her back to reality with a thud – she rolled her eyes at the thought. "That's what you get for not paying attention," she told herself. "Wet feet and tiles don't get on!"

With a painful grunt, Hermione clambered to her feet and stepped gingerly onto the fluffy mat on the floor before grabbing a towel and starting to dry her skin. Her shoulder complained at being used for the task, but Hermione ignored it, thankful that the pain lessened gradually. She wrapped the towel around her shoulders and grabbed another for her hair. Hermione caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror and smiled, the untimely fall having done little to dispel her overall good mood. She hummed a stupid little tune as she rubbed the water from her hair. The reason for her chirpiness was simple, even ridiculous; for once, her dreams weren't haunting her morning rituals. She felt vaguely normal for the first time in ages. She hadn't had good dreams, in fact she had no idea what she had dreamt about. All the same, waking up in her bed an hour ago without the lingering shame and fear from her nightmare currently ranked in the top three perfect moments of her life. Her smile widened, and she hadn't even drunk the potion yet.

Thinking about it logically, though no less happily, she put it down to the fumes that she and Draco had inhaled. Even breathing them for a few minutes had given her a large enough dose to keep her nightmares away. Her skin tingled; if the vapour could do that, then she couldn't imagine what the full strength of the potion would do. Tonight she would be enjoying its full benefits, not only suppressing her nightmares, but generating dreams of its own. The book hadn't been too specific about what she should expect, but there were only so many ways to interpret 'euphoric dreams,' none of which sounded bad to her right now.

Coiling the towel around her head like a turban, Hermione took up her toothbrush and ran it under the tap. It was only when she bared her teeth to start brushing that she remembered what else the fumes had done to her. Most of it was a blur, but she tried to piece it together. She had added the last of the ingredients to the potion and taken it off the heat. Draco had been ignoring her as he tried to study, despite her best efforts to slyly distract him. He had finally taken her hints and gotten up to come over for a little cuddle. He had been kissing her and tickling her and then…she wasn't sure. She had gotten angry…no frustrated was more like it, Draco had been deliberately teasing her and then there had been…she shook her head, it was too fuzzy. The next thing she remembered, she was in the corridor. Draco was holding her up, and he was bleeding from a wound she had inflicted…with her teeth.

Hermione spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth. She had to rinse her mouth again with her mouthwash before she managed to convince herself that she could no longer taste his blood. Draco had claimed he didn't mind what she had done, and she believed him, but still, she minded. The fact that she had done it was bad enough, but that she didn't remember doing it made her slightly queasy. She made a mental note to make it up to him somehow and left the bathroom. She was limping, her leg was a little stiff from her fall too. She swore under her breath, mentally berating her carelessness again.

Lavender and Pavarti passed her in the hallway. She got a cheery nod from Pavarti and a bright "Hi!" from Lavender. She felt her good mood climbing again, she wasn't the enemy anymore.

Hermione entered her bedroom and shut the door before crossing to her trunk to get out some clean robes. The ones she had been wearing the previous day lay on top of the trunk. Hermione scowled, she normally put her dirty laundry in to be cleaned before she went to bed. However, given how spaced out the potion had made her, she supposed she could be forgiven for this one transgression. She bundled up her robes, and then dropped them again when she saw her shirt. A series of dark brown stains on her collar stood out harshly against the clean white of the garment. Unmistakably blood, Draco's blood. Hermione felt her stomach quiver slightly. Her nose twitched, she could smell something odd in the air. Metallic and slightly sweet it was odd and unfamiliar, yet strangely, she recognised it. Hermione brought the shirt up to her nose and took a deep sniff…Draco. The scent of him was there, even mixed with the stronger smell of his blood, it was eerily clear. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as she breathed him in again. The scent made her skin tingle. It was so strong, she was amazed that she hadn't smelled it on her clothing before. She smiled, the idea of keeping the shirt just as it was appealed to her for a moment before she caught sight of the blood. It sobered her slightly, there were other ways for her to remind herself of him, she supposed, and it wasn't like he was in short supply. Without a second more hesitation, Hermione tossed her clothes into the laundry basket and tugged open her trunk.

As she picked up a fresh set of robes, she heard something clatter against her copy of Hogwarts: A History. Her head spun round, rapidly ensuring that she was still alone before she picked up Harry's wand. She knew she shouldn't have kept it, she knew she should have returned it. He needn't have known. There were a dozen ways that she could, over the last week, have made sure he would find it without the need for him to know who had returned it. Hermione had told herself these things over and over. She told herself these things yet again as she looked at the length of dark wood in her hand. It was Harry's wand, he didn't need to be talking to her for her to know that he needed it. A wizard's wand was like a physical part of him, and this wand had saved Harry's, and her own, life on several occasions. She knew him well enough to know that not having it was tough, even unbearable for him. He'd had to skip the last two duelling classes for its lack, and he wasn't happy about that, not at all.

Still, not having it wasn't exactly hurting him, and in some small way, Hermione allowed herself to believe that he deserved some modicum of punishment for the way he had treated her and the rest of the Gryffindors lately. There wasn't one of them that Harry hadn't rendered unconscious in one duel or another. So what if he missed a class or two, and lost the chance to show off? If that was the worst that happened to him, then so be it. Keeping his wand hidden from him was, she also told herself, a damned sight better than any of the ideas that Draco had proffered. She'd decided he was only joking about half of them though, and the rest were just plain ridiculous, so they weren't serious either. The child like joy in his eyes when he'd talked about holding Harry's hostage…complete with missing persons posters and a phoney ransom, was positively hilarious. It was topped only by his, 'Let's enchant it with little fairy wings and have it fly round his head….just out of reach for a day.' Hermione chuckled to herself whenever she thought about that one. She could picture Harry leaping up and down to try and snare it from the air. The picture of her friend in difficulty shouldn't make her laugh, she knew, but she couldn't help it. Hearing Draco plan it out, knowing that she would never let him do it had been really funny.

Something Hermione had learned about Draco Malfoy, something that had actually come as a shock, was the wide range of his sense of humour. Dry as the Sahara and sharper than a polished razor one minute and crude and overly simplistic the next, Draco was a hard boy to predict. Something else she noted, was that, between one joke and another, he was rarely serious. Deep inside, she knew how much of it was for her benefit. She could see the sharp remarks form and then get smashed in his head. He'd slipped up once or twice, but he was making the effort, that was what she really noticed…and liked.

The clock in the corner chimed, reminding Hermione that it was time for her to get going. Her timetable for the day ran through her head. Arithmancy first to receive the next mind contorting project from Professor Vector, then lunch, and then she had just a few short hours to while away until her potion would be ready. It was going to work, she knew it was going to work. She tossed Harry's wand back into her trunk and started to hum again as she got dressed.

* * *

"Draco, I don't know about this." Hermione dug her heels in and clung to Draco's hand, preventing him from dragging her down the corridor to Firenze's classroom. 

Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to her. "You agreed, Hermione," he told her forcefully. She was not wriggling out of this.

Hermione took hold of both of his hands, but avoided looking at him. "I know what I said, Draco, but I," she shook her head, "I just don't want to."

Draco sighed and moved closer to her. "Listen, I know you don't want to do this, but I want you to," she looked up at him, "It's the centaur or Trelawney…and we both know what kind of nonsense she'll start spouting." Hermione smiled, but Draco got serious. "And if you think, for one second, that I am going to let you go anywhere near that potion again without at least asking that bloody centaur for help, you are sadly mistaken." Draco sucked in all his willpower and stared at her until she looked away.

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned her forehead into him. He heard her take a slow breath before she spoke. "Alright," it was barely a whisper, "But you stay with me."

Draco frowned, of course he was going to stay with her. "Are you afraid of it?"

"'It' is a 'him', Draco," she said rather harshly, "and no, I am not afraid of _him_. I just…don't want to do this on my own."

Draco leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Ok then…I'll stay right beside you, now come on," he ordered and closed his grip on her fingers.

Despite her agreement, Hermione still dragged her feet as Draco half led, half pulled her behind him until they reached the classroom. There was a class on inside according to the timetable, but it was nearly over. Draco leaned into the wall of the corridor to wait, keeping a firm grip on Hermione's hand. She looked furtive, restless. She kept shifting her weight from foot to foot. From time to time, Draco could hear her vocalise the thoughts in her head. He got snippets of harsh comments, was she having a row with herself?

Draco smiled and raised his free hand to touch her cheek. "It will be alright," he assured her, drawing her to him and turning her round so that she was sitting on his lap, "The worst that it…he," he corrected as she tensed in his arms, 'Fine, call it a he if it keeps her happy!' "The worst that he can say is that he can't help us, and we won't be in any worse shape than we are now, will we?"

"But he'll know though," she whispered.

"Yes, but centaurs are private creatures, I'm sure that…he will understand if you ask him to keep it to himself."

"Maybe," she said quietly.

The bell rang. Hermione jumped in Draco's grip and her gaze locked on the door as it opened and began disgorging students; third year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff kids bundled past them without a sideways glance. When the last of them had passed, Draco stood, lifting Hermione onto her feet with him. She tensed again, seriously not happy about doing this, but she was going to do it, even if Draco had to drag her in by the hair.

Hermione's fists balled at her hips for a moment, and then she stepped forward. Draco followed on her heels. He entered Firenze's classroom and goggled. He had never been here before, though he had heard the room described. It really was, just as he had heard, a perfect, artificial woodland glade. The scent of trees and flowers washed over him. It felt like another world. Though the weather outside was decidedly chilly and December-esque, this place seemed to be entrenched in a perpetual summer. He shook himself from his trance and looked around for the centaur they had come here to see. For a moment he saw nothing, but then movement amongst the trees caught his eye. Draco put his arm around Hermione's waist, feeling her trembling hard as he led her toward the centaur.

They passed out from under the trees and entered a broad clearing. Tree stumps and fallen trunks defined a rough circle of seats around a wide open space. Firenze must lecture from the centre, Draco assumed. The beast was there even now, kneeling with its back to them in what appeared to be a pose of meditation. Draco took a step toward it without hesitation, intent on attracting its attention, but Hermione stopped him.

"We shouldn't disturb him," she whispered behind her hand.

"Why not?" Draco asked.

"Because it's rude," she hissed.

Draco looked from Firenze to her. While he was mildly aware that she was right, and that the beast, him, it…whatever, was resting, even if it wasn't meditating or anything more meaningful, he suspected that that wasn't Hermione's only reason for objecting.

"Hermione…" he started, but he got no further into his argument.

"You may approach," Firenze said in a dreamy voice without turning around. "Your entrance was disturbance enough…your questions will make little further difference."

Draco frowned. "How did you know we wanted to ask questions?"

The centaur's only response was to cast his huge head skyward and take a series of deep breaths with its eyes closed. Finally it spoke, a mere second before Draco was set to scream at it. "What is it that troubles you so?"

Draco's mouth was open before he knew it. "What do you…"

"I was addressing the filly," Firenze cut him off.

Draco took a breath and looked down at Hermione. She was chewing her lip hard and it took her several seconds to answer. "W…well," she stammered, "well we…I…I…I mean, I wanted to…" she tailed off, unable to speak. Her fingers closed on Draco's hand where it was holding her waist and she squeezed him for support.

"You need not be nervous," the centaur stood and turned to face them at last, "I hold no anger toward you. My mediations had not yet even begun," the things eyes widened as he spoke. Draco ground his teeth at the veiled insult. The centaur approached them and laid a single huge hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Come…sit," Draco had to fight the sudden urge to draw his wand on the beast. 'Get your filthy hands off her!' he roared inside his skull.

Hermione didn't seem to mind. In fact she allowed herself to be led to a waiting stump and then sat down. "I will return shortly," the centaur said gently. Firenze turned from her and then disappeared amid the trees for a moment before returning with a large tray. Draco moved to sit on the nearest stump to Hermione. He found himself watching the centaur's every move, already regretting ever talking her into this. It was the only choice he had, but faced with it, he couldn't force himself to settle around the thing. Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him, looking no less worried than she had in the corridor. Draco remembered to give her a reassuring wink before returning his attention to the centaur.

Firenze stopped in front of Hermione and knelt down and laid the tray on her lap. He poured her a cup of something that steamed and smelled vaguely of roses. "Drink," the centaur commanded and Hermione obeyed. Draco noted that it hadn't offered him a cup, but he held his tongue. This creature was the only thing standing between Hermione and that vile potion, which he was getting more and more wary of with each passing hour. Caught between the centaur he knew and the poison he didn't, he held himself in check…just. He saw that her hands were shaking as she raised the cup to her lips. She took a deep draught and sighed as she swallowed. Whatever it was, it seemed to settle her.

She smiled at the centaur. "Thank you."

"It is Professor Dumbledore that deserves the thanks," the centaur replied, never taking his eyes off Hermione, "it was he who introduced me to this blend…we centaurs rarely partake of brewed infusions, but I feel that this helps me. Now," he said, casting a tiny glance at Draco, "tell me what has brought you here."

Hermione looked back at Draco for a second, and then took a deep breath before she spoke. "Well…I wanted to ask you about dreams…"

She spoke slowly and paused often, but gradually, Hermione recounted her story. Firenze listened without comment or interruption. Draco was hard pushed to see any reaction at all on its face. In the end, when Hermione fell silent and sat, wringing her hands together on her lap, Draco waited…and waited…and waited for a response. Firenze, however, seemed to not have one to offer. He continued to stare blankly at Hermione, endlessly probing her face with his eyes. It wasn't until she looked away from it that it moved at all, reaching out to catch her chin rather forcefully and lifting her face once more so he could resume his perpetual stare.

"Hey," Draco yelled, as he stood up, "What do you think you're doing? Let her go!" he ordered. Draco reached out to free Hermione, who didn't look at all happy with Firenze's treatment of her, but he was stopped short when the centaur's free hand lashed out and caught his robes. Draco struggled and cursed the thing, but the beast held him tight, its arm being long enough and strong enough to keep him from reaching Hermione.

"Be still," the centaur ordered, still not moving his eyes from Hermione's face, "I intend her no harm."

It was useless to resist. Unless the thing released him, Draco had no choice but to obey. He couldn't even get to his wand due to the unfortunate way that his robes were hanging. "It's alright, Draco," Hermione's voice was a tiny whisper, "Please!" she pleaded. Draco frowned, he didn't understand her sudden willingness to let the centaur maul her, but when she turned her head, he realised that it wasn't holding her as tight as he had thought. Momentarily appeased, Draco relaxed. Firenze released him and turned back to Hermione.

"Do you believe that there is substance in what you see?" he asked.

Hermione drew back and swallowed. "I don't know," she said weakly.

"Is it your wish to know?"

"Y...yes, can you tell me?"

"No," Firenze looked skyward, "but, perhaps I can help you to learn the answer for yourself."

"How?"

"Your words tell me of the chaos in your mind…a scattering of thought and purpose from which you cannot recover. We centaurs use meditation and inward reflection to attempt to clear our minds of such worries, and perceive ourselves more clearly. Such techniques have often helped me resolve inner conflicts such as that which you describe. While I am uncertain if our ways will work on one of your kind, I am willing to try."

Hermione nodded. Firenze moved closer to her. 'Not so fast!' "Hold on," Draco said, "What exactly are you going to try?"

"I am going to induce a deep trance," Firenze spoke as though he was answering Hermione, "You must do nothing except relax. If it works, then your mind will settle and you will find yourself in silence. I will then be able to guide you to the secret places, the dark corners where things are hidden. The pieces of your truth will lay before us…before you as they really are. At that point, if there is anything that your mind needs you to see, it will show you."

Hermione looked at Draco, she was uncertain, but her eyes spoke to him, 'This was your idea!' He nodded to her and laid a hand on her shoulder for a moment to comfort her as best he could.

Hermione turned to Firenze. "Ok then."

Firenze lifted his huge hands and let his fingers come to rest on Hermione's temples. Her eyes drifted closed at his touch. Slowly, quietly, the centaur started to sing. Firenze's voice was a deep bass rumble, Draco heard no words, just the vibration in the air. Hermione almost instantly went limp in front of him, her body sagging, only remaining upright because he was holding her head as he was. The sound of the centaur song made Draco's ears twitch as they tried to pin the source of the noise down, it seemed to be shifting around him despite the centaur remaining still. The sensation made him dizzy. Without realising, Draco found himself sitting down, feeling suddenly drowsy. The voice rose, Draco had to shake himself hard to keep from nodding off. 'Damn, doesn't he ever breathe?' Firenze's voice rose again, rising the hairs on the back of Draco's neck.

The centaur lowered his head, bringing his forehead to touch Hermione's gently. The contact seemed to awaken her. Her muscles tensed and her eyes opened. Hermione stared straight ahead, her gaze locked with that of Firenze. Draco saw her fists clench. Her breathing accelerated as sweat started to bead on her skin. Her face took on a pained expression. Only then did Draco notice just how hard Firenze was holding her.

"Stop!" he yelled. He reached out and started to claw at Firenze's fingers in a mad attempt to free her from his grip. It was a futile effort and Draco knew it, the beast had the strength of ten of him. He stepped back to grab his wand when with a booming silence, the noise of Firenze's voice stopped.

The centaur released Hermione, who slumped hard. Draco had to move fast to catch her. She was shaking and panting as though she had just run for miles without rest. He could feel her clothes sticking to her with sweat even through her robes. Firenze too, seemed mildly distressed. The centaur staggered back and seemed disorientated and unsteady as it stood up.

"You have been given a great gift," it said at last, "One that I have never before seen in one of your breed."

Draco frowned at it. "What do you mean? What did you do to her?"

"They speak to you," the centaur answered, ignoring Draco's question, "You can hear the words of the stars themselves," he spoke with cold reverence now, "Their song echoes in your eyes."

Draco cradled Hermione in his arms and tried to get her to respond without success.

"Yours is a great responsibility," Firenze continued, "The stars have chosen to share a part of their great design with you…you should be honoured."

"Honoured?" Draco all but shouted at him, "What the hell do you mean honoured? Listen you…" he stopped short of a very nasty insult, "can you help her or not?"

Firenze seemed confused. "Help her? In what way?"

"Can you make them stop?" Hermione's head snapped up as she answered him in a shaky voice.

The centaur was taken aback. "Stop them? You wish them to stop?"

"Of course she does," Draco stood and confronted the beast, "What are you? Stupid? Can't you see how scared she is?"

"Her fear is understandable. She is but a tiny ant confronted with a stallion. The will of the stars is beyond question however. They have chosen to speak to her, and therefore they must have a message that she is meant to hear."

Draco opened his mouth and was deciding what insult best suited the situation when he realised that Hermione was gone. He spun to see her bolting through the trees to the door at a full sprint. Draco called after her but she didn't answer. He swore under his breath and tore off after her, ignoring Firenze's aggravated calls behind him. Outside, he took less than a second to pick out the sound of her feet pounding down the corridors through the normal background din. From the direction, there could be only one place she was going. Draco swore aloud this time and took of, nearly flattening a hapless second year in his hurry.

* * *

The carriage dropped below the clouds. Etean could almost feel the tension raise a further notch. He wasn't sure who was more nervous, Ron Weasley or Severus Snape. The Professor's head hadn't left the window in about a half an hour and Etean could have taken his pulse simply by watching the side of his temple throb. Ron, for his part was toying with his wand and was showing signs of waging a horrendous struggle to keep the contents of his stomach in their current location. 

The news that they were to pay Coventry a little visit hadn't exactly gone down well with the carriages other occupants. Neville Longbottom's features continued to wax paler and paler, yet his sombre courageous silence remained. He appeared to be a distorted mirror reflection of Snape, sitting as he was, opposite the Professor and staring out at the countryside hurtling past. Harry was sitting with his eyes closed, making a concentrated effort to control his breathing. He had been very quiet since his rather surprising realisation earlier. Etean was seriously curious about what was going on in his head, however his thoughts were currently veiled by a solid wall of occlumentic control.

Snape tensed in his seat. "I believe," his voice belayed his tension, "that we are approaching our destination. He turned to Etean, who nodded. Without a word, he reached out and tugged the leather arm rest between them down and calmly flipped the brass lid on the carriage's manual control open.

Normally the carriages were navigated solely by the hippogriffs, who could find an igloo in a blizzard if given adequate instruction prior to take off. Times sometimes did provide the necessity however, for the passengers to be in direct control of the flight. The controls consisted of no more than a compass showing their current heading relative to the four cardinal points. A small brass bar was set in a gimbal above the compass disc and was free to rotate and tilt freely in any direction. Connected via a series of charms to the hippogriffs's harnesses, one need only turn and tip the bar to signal a desired change of direction.

Snape listened intently as Etean explained the controls. Then nodded his understanding and took over the helm. The carriage lurched hard to the side and lost altitude dramatically. There was a momentary flash of panic by all inside until Snape managed to correct his error.

"Settle down you lot," he hollered, even though Etean had distinctly heard him roar over the noise of the others, "This would be easier, Mr Etean, if I could see where I was going."

Etean nodded. "Brace yourselves," he advised the Gryffindors as he reached once more for the invisibility charm. Tapping it twice, he activated the second level of the charm. Neville let out a strangled cry as the leather seat vanished beneath him, followed by the walls and the floor. It appeared to everyone now that they were all floating in mid air, suspended by nothing more substantial than the breeze…which they couldn't feel. Etean, being the only one who knew what was about to happen, grinned at their stunned faces.

"Now then," Snape cleared his throat, never taking his hand off the now invisible controls, "I want you all to get comfortable and pay attention to your surroundings."

"I still don't see how this is going to work," Ron moaned.

Snape sighed. "As I have already explained, the information we have about the conditions in Coventry is fragmented and incomplete. This is going to be our single greatest opportunity to carry out daylight reconnaissance on the occupied territory. We are going to make several passes at as low an altitude as we can, protected by our invisibility shield. Any information we learn here may well influence the final outcome of the war." Snape shot Harry a meaningful look and a nod, which Harry returned solemnly. "All of what we see today," Snape continued, "Will be transferred into a penseive once we reach London, and will be examined by Ministerial officers in great detail. I expect all of you to take this most seriously."

That was it, the occupants of the carriage all took up their positions, sitting so as to view a different portion of the scene below. Under Snape's increasingly steady guidance, they rose slightly to follow the crest of a hill and then suddenly, Coventry lay beneath them. Snape tipped the needle back slightly, slowing their pace as they soared above the first of the city's suburbs. Etean turned to view the city below.

From their vantage point about a hundred feet in the air, the devastation that had befallen the city was clearly visible. The photographs and penseive images he had seen of this hadn't done it justice. They had captured the individual destruction, but not the sheer, terrible scale of it. Etean could see entire houses that had been completely and utterly torn asunder. Debris that he forced himself to forget was the shattered remnants of innocent people's lives littered the streets. Muggle cars and other, larger vehicles had been lifted and hurled about as though they were toys. Here and there lay scattered human remains, though thankfully not many. It wasn't really a comfort to Etean, between the hags, ghouls and vampires, he knew full well that all he was seeing was what little had been left for the rats.

Neville wretched and barely avoided vomiting when he saw a large green bus turned on its side. Lettering painted on the side and still just legible declared it to be the primary conveyance of St Thomas' Primary School. The windows and indeed the side of the vehicle itself were stained with blood, which had dried and left to stain after the children that it once sustained had been carried off.

"How could they?" he asked.

"It was probably the work of werewolves," Snape said coldly, "To them, one meal is the same as any other."

Neville goggled at his teacher. Harry and Ron exchanged pained glances. Etean saw that he was in mind to say something, but he stopped himself and returned to his duties.

This part of the city appeared largely deserted from where Etean sat. Snape apparently agreed as he put them into a large climbing bank and turned them to head westward over the bulk of the city. Turning to look at the Professor, Etean caught sight of Birmingham on the horizon. The larger, neighbouring city had been spared its smaller neighbour's fate and would currently just be awakening for another day. Etean wondered if the huge muggle army currently encamped over almost a quarter of the city was anything more than an inconvenience to those muggles that had remained after the initial evacuation. After all, who needed soldiers to protect them from chemical spills?

That was muggles for you, feed them any old nonsense and they just carry on regardless. Etean shook his head, wondering how they hadn't managed to destroy themselves a dozen times over. There weren't any wizards left near here to be guarded, that was for sure. The proximity of Birmingham to Voldemort's new base of operations had caused it to become a ghost town so far as the wizards had been concerned. Young and old, healthy and infirm, they had all fled their homes and scattered to the far corners of the land to escape the shadow of death that fell suddenly upon them. The Ministry was maintaining a twenty mile cordon around Coventry, but Etean wondered if there was a single wizard living in peace within fifty miles, or even a hundred.

The carriage dipped and looped around the massive stone cathedral at the heart of the city and started a low, slow pass over the most built up area. Again, the destruction here was near total, the invaders seeming to take the utmost pleasure in tearing the muggle shopping and commercial district apart. Etean shuddered at the thought of the sport they had had here.

The air seemed to grow chillier all of a sudden. Etean didn't seem to be the only one who noticed it. Ron was bundling himself up and Neville was visibly shaking.

"Dementors," Snape said simply, pointing off to the right.

Etean looked down and saw them, a trio of ghostly figures rounding a corner and floating slowly down what was left of a broad high street. As they all watched, the lead member of the group stopped in place and turned. It took Snape a half second longer than it took Harry to realise why.

"He can see us," he exclaimed as the carriage bucked and rose unsteadily to over two hundred feet. The dementors below shrank to no more than black dots. They hovered for a moment more, and then continued on their way.

"I thought we were invisible," Ron said, sounding worried.

"Dementors don't see," Harry said, "They feel your joy, your happiness. That was what made them turn."

"Whatever," Neville said, "If they can detect us, shouldn't we get the hell out of here?"

"That's enough of that language, Longbottom," Snape snapped at him, "And to answer your question, no we most certainly are not leaving, at least, not until we have taken a look at the wizard quarter."

Etean looked at Snape, quietly wondering just how far he was willing to risk their lives to be the one who delivered the, admittedly necessary, intelligence to London. He forced his face to remain placid as he watched Snape turn them once more. As they levelled out to head south, his gaze met Ron's and he knew, without any form of telepathy, that the Gryffindor was thinking the exact same thing. Beads of sweat were starting to form on Potter's brow as he continued his perpetual stare at the scenes below.

They crossed the magical barrier shrouding the wizard quarter. As the largest wizarding population outside London, Coventry had some of the most complex and extensive wards in place to shield its population. This place had been home to over five hundred wizards, two thirds the population of London itself. Unlike the capital, however, the wizards of Coventry had chosen to congregate rather than spreading out in individually disguised homes dotted throughout the metropolis. Harking back an age, the wizard quarter of Coventry had once been the jewel in England's crown, a place of light, art and culture. With nearly three square miles of the city was completely hidden from muggle eyes, it offered freedom to live, freedom to move. But, that was then, this was now, for the last several weeks, no free wizard had as much as laid eyes on the place in daylight.

Most of what Etean saw now was residential, though he knew it had all the usual amenities one would expect to find in such a place. It had had, Etean had to force himself to think in the past tense. Coventry was no more. What lay beneath him now was a shattered dream, a dead world.

Dragging himself back to the task at hand, Etean looked for and instantly saw the Ministry complex. Towering at a full fifty feet above its neighbouring structures, it rose as a solid stone edifice from the centre of a mess of endlessly twisted cobbled streets to dominate the skyline. Looking at it, Etean saw the point of its design. The magical wards and invisibility barriers kept prying muggle eyes from looking in, but they did nothing to keep wizards from looking out. That building, with its stark architecture would have echoed the muggle cathedral behind them on the horizon, giving the wizards a landmark of their own. It was a shame it had become a target.

The streets below were no longer empty. Closer to their new found home, the followers of Voldemort seemed to grow more brazen. Few wizards wandered the streets that he could see, but there was no shortage of foul beasts and hideous sights to behold. They passed high over a large open courtyard which instantly said 'prison' to Etean. He saw both Ron and Neville pale as they saw a young man, wizard or muggle, there was no way to tell, being led out into the square. A few dark hooded figures watched on and cheered as one of their number sent a spell toward the helpless man, disembowelling him where he stood, but without killing him. A gate at the side of the yard opened and two thestrals stalked in, drawn to the blood. The death Eaters cheered again as the two hapless creatures obeyed the call of their nature and began devouring the still quivering man as he bled to death before them.

They banked away again, much to their collective relief before the macabre show could continue. Etean looked over to see that Neville had turned green in his seat. Ron beside him was fuming and clenching his teeth, letting his revulsion fuel anger. Harry sat still, his face was drawn and pale with deep concentration. To look at them, it was clear that they were in no shape to continue to watch these events. Etean silently cursed Snape once more for their presence.

"I think, Professor," he said calmly, "That we have seen enough for today."

Snape barely seemed to hear him. His gaze was fixed over Neville's shoulder at the approaching hulk of the former Ministry headquarters. They were not leaving, Etean guessed, until they'd had a closer look. Snape guided them higher, so that they cleared the walls and looked down from above at the complex, and then leaned them into a lazy spiral, gradually circling lower.

Built as a perfect rectangle with a large open court in the centre, the plan view of the building resembled a medieval monastic cloister. Death Eaters were clearly visible patrolling the battlements on guard, keeping an eye on things around Voldemort's city for him. Identifying them as individuals would have been all but impossible from the ground. From where Etean sat it was futile to even try. Events in the courtyard however, were a lot clearer.

Etean heard Harry let out a low moan. Snape coughed hard. He was for a moment puzzled as to why; surely they had both seen a dragon before. They continued to circle lower. Etean could now clearly make out the shape of at least a dozen Death Eaters surrounding what he was fairly certain was a full grown Norwegian Ridgeback. Etean's mind raced, trying to remember his basic animal identification. The enlarged head and slate grey bone ridges on the beast's spine meant it was a male, and an old one by the size of it. The Death Eaters were attempting to subdue the creature. It looked to him like they were actively engaged in an effort to train the thing, though he had no clue about why. Dragons were notoriously difficult to tame, in fact many claimed it was impossible. Their size and their awesome power was impressive to be sure, but what was that without control?

Etean was suddenly distracted by a loud groan from Potter. He slumped forward and fell from his seat onto the invisible floor with a heavy thump. In a flash, both Ron and Snape were beside him.

Snape battered Ron away and took Harry's head in his hands. "Can you hear me, Potter?" No response. The carriage dropped yet lower, they were passing below the level of the rooftops. Etean reached out to stall their descent before returning his attention to Harry. The Ether around him was a turgid storm. Snape continued to call him. "Potter….can you hear me? … Pot…Harry, Harry can you hear me?"

Harry went stiff in Snape's arms, his eyes slammed open and he stared up at the ceiling. "He is here," his voice was a hoarse scratch. Before any of them had a chance to question what was going on, before any of them could even process what they had just heard, Neville roared,

"The Dragon!"

Etean's head spun. The hairs on his neck rose in alarm as he saw the dragon's head turning toward them. Guided by a force that Etean didn't know, the beast was levelling its gaze right at the carriage as it circled a full thirty feet from its nose. Its mouth agape, Etean could see the boiling fire of its gullet ignite with rage. Only the angle of its neck prevented it from incinerating them on the spot, but that would soon change. The beast reared, tearing free of its restraints and lunged at them as they continued on course. Snape dropped Harry and lunged for the controls. His fingers were an inch from the gimbal when the dragon reared and belched a ball of searing heat straight at them.

There was a deafening roar, then, with a heart stopping lurch, the carriage canted back and shot skyward. The dragon fire hit, and for a moment they were engulfed in a world of fire and brimstone, but then they were soaring high once more. Etean looked at Ron, who was staring at Snape, who was watching Neville, who was being violently sick in the corner. Each of them got the merest second to catch a breath before a second hideous shudder rocked the carriage and the seat beneath Etean fell away.

* * *

Hermione was fast. Draco hadn't ever had to really chase her before now, and he was glad of it. Even knowing where she was going, cutting every corner so close he took plaster with him and taking advantage of every short cut he could remember on his mad dash after her, Draco was only just able to keep her in sight. 

Convinced that she was about do down the potion whole, Draco urged himself onward to stop her. He rounded the corner of the short corridor just in time to see her ankles disappear from view up the stairs. Draco slammed through the doorway as it tried to close on him and took the steps three at a bound in a desperate attempt to intercept her. He finally caught up with her as she ran across the floor of the bedroom toward the waiting cauldron. The speed of their travel being so fast, that there was no way that either could have safely stopped in the space available. Dissolving as they did into a mass of tangled limbs and robes, it was all that Draco could do to maintain their momentum and land them on the bed, albeit awkwardly. His knee collided with the edge of the bed frame and he distinctly thought he heard something crack. There was no answering flash of pain however, so he assumed that the wood had at least partly given way. Hermione gave him no time to reflect on the situation.

No sooner had she landed, than she was immediately struggling to stand up again. Draco, fighting for breath and blinking away some rather annoying purple blotches from his eyes, had to grapple and physically wrestle with her in his attempts to hold her down. She fought him, scratching and slapping with all her might, all the while growling in a distinctly animalistic tone. Far from arousing, Draco found this sound distinctly unnerving to hear from her. In the end he had to roll on top of her and use his full weight to pin her down before he got the better of her.

"Calm down, Hermione, please," he pleaded with her.

Hermione rocked and struggled for a moment more before finally seeming to accept her predicament. Her entire demeanour shifted drastically. She looked up at him with a pained expression on her face. Her fingers came up and touched his chin. Her brow knitted as she moved them to gently caress his cheeks and neck. Draco stared down at her as she continued to tactilely examine his face. Her pained expression deepened as her fingers slipped into his hair and balled into fists. One second of searing pain later and Draco found himself face down on the quilt with her head buried into the nape of his neck. Hermione released her hold on his head in favour of a strong grip around his neck and shoulders. Draco relaxed, exhausted, he let his body flop down onto her, honestly not sure if he possessed the strength to lift himself up again. Beneath him, he could hear Hermione sob hard. Her breathing was slow and laboured, after a moment, Draco's oxygen starved brain realised why.

With an almighty effort and a creaking neck, Draco pushed himself off her and rolled onto his back. Hermione held onto him throughout his roll, and so he pulled her with him. She landed on his chest and promptly curled up into a tiny ball against him and continued to cry as he wrapped his arms about her and stared at the ceiling.

'All in all,' he thought to himself, 'A pretty perfect fuck up!'

Draco lay there, silently berating himself for ever suggesting that Hermione go to see that blasted creature for over an hour. What had he been thinking? He must have been out of his mind to allow that monster within ten feet of Hermione in her current state. What the hell had he done to her? What new twisted images had he shown her? What were they going to do now? Draco knew what Hermione wanted to do, why else would she have come tearing up here so fast? The aroma of the potion was faint in the air now, but it was enough to remind Draco of the events of last night. His mind started to run in circles.

Draco tuned out Hermione's individual moans and her occasional clawing at his neck. It was only when she relaxed her grip on his neck and straightened herself out alongside him that he came to and nudged her, "You with me?" he asked, the question seeming marginally less pathetic than, 'Are you OK?'

Hermione nodded against his shoulder. "Yes," she said into his robes.

Draco didn't want to ask the next question, but his mind left him no other options. "What happened?"

Hermione sniffed and was silent for a long time. "We…we," she started at last.

Draco's nerve broke. "Shhh, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, I…I want to, I," she mumbled, her fingers tightened in his hair again, though not as painfully, "Firenze, he….we went into my mind. He was there…with me in my head. He said that…that my dreams…they aren't coming from me…"

Draco remembered the talk of stars. "I remember," he said, unconsciously starting to stroke her arm.

"You do?" Hermione lifted her head and then shook it and buried it again, "Yes of course you do…I was awake for that part wasn't I? That isn't what I meant though…he said that," she paused, Draco could almost feel her frown, "Some of the visions are from the 'stars,' but not all of them – some of them come from somewhere else."

"Did he say where?"

"Soul echoes…"

"What?"

Hermione shrugged against him, "He said that sometimes people can pick up bits and pieces of souls that cross their path. Little bits of other people, of their lives and their problems get lodged in your mind and buried."

Draco shook his head, "Well, it's no weirder than any of the other ideas we came across. Do you believe it?"

Another shrug, Hermione nuzzled further into his robes, "I don't know," he could barely hear her now, "The way he tells it, it happens all the time. It's just that most people never feel them or see them, they are just in there, like dirt in a puddle."

Draco frowned at what she was saying, "So, there are little bits of other people inside me?"

"Apparently."

Something didn't add up. Firenze's explanation was about as balmy as any one of a dozen that Draco could name, and a damned sight better than a load more, but, "So," he said carefully, "What was it that upset you so much?"

Hermione's fingers slid out of his hair and ran down his neck to his chest. She pressed them into his flesh for a moment before closing a fist in his robes and squeezing, "Firenze triggered one of my dreams…he said it was an accident, but I don't know…"

"Which dream?"

"The one with the wolf…but it was different this time, clearer somehow. I could breathe, I could run, and…and I saw what was at the end of the tunnel."

"A vortex wasn't it?"

"No, the other end, the one I could never reach before. I got there this time, and I saw…"

"What?"

Her fist tightened, "You!" she said simply.

"Me?"

Hermione nodded, Draco craned his neck to try and see her. "Yes…I saw you…I saw you…die!"

"What?" Draco sat bolt upright. Hermione rolled off him but he caught her and hauled her up. Her face was streaked with tears which seemed to flow again when she looked him in the eye. All she could do to answer his question was nod, but that wasn't enough for Draco. "Tell me, Hermione…tell me what you saw."

She shook her head and tried to melt into him again but Draco needed to see her face so he held her where she was. "Please," he said as softly as he could force his voice, "tell me."

She sniffed hard and cleared her throat twice before she managed to speak. "I…I was standing at the vortex. The whole corridor was shaking so hard I could barely keep my feet. Suddenly, I don't know how, I just knew what I had to do, I had to get to the other end of the passage so I could help you…you were in trouble…you needed me," she paused and sniffed again, this time Draco let her move closer and rest on his shoulder as she continued, "I ran…I ran as hard and as fast as I could. My throat was on fire and my lungs felt like they'd been ripped right out of me, but I had to keep going even…even though I knew that I was going to be too late to save you."

A heavy sob ran through her, stopping her tale for several seconds that seemed to Draco to be more like hours. "I got to the…en…the end of the tunnel, there was some steps cut into the rock. I ran up them and got outside…" she tailed off.

"Then what?" Draco urged, "Was I outside? Was I there?"

"No," she shuddered, "There was nothing there…just ash and fire and death, the whole world was dead for miles and miles. I couldn't breathe, the air was burning my skin. Then the ground shook harder than before, I spun round, and there…there was a…mountain…a mountain of fire."

Draco's heart leaped into his throat. A vortex leading to a passage…a passage ending in stairs that opened onto the base of a volcano? One word echoed and repeated in his ears over the sound of his own roaring heart…Etheros!

Hermione continued. "I looked up at the top of the mountain…there was a light…a bright light that was getting brighter and brighter. You were up there, I knew you were…and you were about to…" she pulled back so he could see her face and her red rimmed eyes, "I was too late. The world was being sucked toward the light. There was nothing I could do but watch as it all stopped and then…"

"Then?" Draco asked, even though he knew the answer. Fear and pain washed over him as he realised. She had seen his end, his final doom. All that was missing was…

"Then it exploded…the whole mountain just exploded…" She started to paw and wipe at his face again. "I saw you die Draco," she repeated. Draco would have given anything for her not to say it again, but she did. "I saw you die and there wasn't anything I could do to save you. I failed you, I…"

He pulled her to him, more so she wouldn't see his face than out of a desire not to see her cry anymore. He felt as thought the air had been sucked out of him. The weight of his destiny slammed into his heart, stopping it cold. He had accepted that he would die…well as far as one can accept impending painful death, but the truth of it was that he hadn't been thinking about it lately…he had been to wrapped up in Hermione to care about much else. Now it came back as a stab in his chest, he was going to die and she was going to be there?

'NO!' "Shhh," he rubbed her back, "It was just a dream…pictures and sounds from some evil part of your brain. It doesn't matter." He deliberately whispered to keep her from hearing the waver he felt in his voice.

"But what if it's real though?" Hermione asked the question he couldn't answer truthfully, so he lied.

"It isn't. It just isn't," he kept repeating it in her ear until she stopped arguing.

She was quiet for a while, and then she spoke. "I can't see that again, Draco," she whimpered, "I just can't, I…"

"Shhh," he soothed, his eyes settled on the potion. There was no option now, "you won't."

* * *

Etean hurtled sideways. Before he knew what was going on, his forehead collided with the invisible wall of the carriage and stars exploded before his eyes. His instincts kicked in and he pushed out to slow time so he could have time to think. The first thing he did was release the invisibility charm inside the carriage. He'd have to let time speed up for it to stop working, but at least when he did they'd be able to see what was going on. 

He rolled over to see the startled face of Severus Snape hanging inches from his nose. The Potions Master was no oil painting at the best of times, though he did sometimes look like he'd been painted with oil, or at least grease. Seeing him hanging, terrified in mid plummet however, was an image that Etean was sure would stay with him for the remainder of his life. Ron, Neville and Harry were in no better predicaments either. This would be a bumpy few seconds. Etean shook himself, this wasn't helping matters. He struggled to make sense of what had just happened. The dragon had, by some miracle or other, managed to hit them dead on with a blast of fire. Momentary panic aside, they were safe. The carriage was tough enough to take a little fire. The shield charms should have also protected the hippogriffs…so why were they currently listing at over sixty degrees?

'Right, first things first…find out what happened…mental note, don't crash…whatever you do, do not stop this carriage here!'

Etean rolled out from beneath the inanimate Professor and stretched out his mind to the gimbal. He noticed that it didn't currently reflect their trajectory, which registered as a bad sign, but he persevered. Once he had adjusted it sufficiently to correct their flight, he tensed himself for the inevitable bedlam to follow as he released time. There was a very painful sounding crunch as Snape hit the wall beside him, followed closely by Ron and Neville on the other side and Harry rolling into a ball beneath his feet. They hung their, pressed by centrifugal force against the wall for what seemed like an age.

The hippogriff team took a little longer than he would have liked to recover, but, eventually, they righted the carriage enough to allow movement. Etean shook himself and pushed off from the wall as he slid down, so as to avoid crushing the still immobile Harry. The carriage continued to rock and shudder violently beneath him as he made his way to the forward wall and snapped back the cover of the porthole to look out at their pilots. He scowled when he saw the problem. Altair! He was out of formation and thrashing madly against his harness in blind panic. Etean tried to piece the events together as he watched the beast weave in the air. He must have been spooked by the light and sound of the dragon's flame. It was the only thing that made sense. As head of the team, the others were trained to take their cues from him. Therefore, when he panicked and scrambled for altitude, the others followed his lead, resulting in their rather unsettling climb, and now, in their erratic flight.

To make matters worse, it appeared as though all of his struggling had broken him at least part of the way free of his harness. Now his movements were a detriment to the others rather than a help. His uneven harness prevented him from adequately steering himself, while his signals to the others transferred through the harness were causing them to buck and weave too. Altair's predicament even seemed to be marring his flight stability, his wing continually connecting with the broken spar and making him flinch.

"How badly were we hit?" Snape asked him, slightly groggily from his new found seat.

"Is it bad?" Neville added, seeming nervous as he knelt beside Harry.

Etean screwed up his face in thought. "We weren't hit, not exactly," he answered the Professor first, "but it is bad. Altair has wrenched his harness."

"Altair?" Neville asked.

Snape waved him off. "How do you mean?" he asked, looking down to examine the rather rosy bruise forming on Harry's temple.

"I mean, either our lead hippogriff pulls away from us completely in the next few minutes, tearing the rest of the reins as he does, and we tumble to our deaths, or he stays attached and drags us about the sky like his own personal rag doll until we inevitably crash to our deaths…"

"Or?" Snape said calmly.

Etean sighed. "Or, we hope and pray that we can get far enough away from this infernal city and then make a safe landing to allow me to fix this thing."

Snape nodded. "That's better," he seemed to be satisfied for the moment that Harry was in no danger, and cast a weather eye on each of the rest of the students, gauging their disposition, "How far do we need to go?"

"Past the cordon at least," Etean said pensively, mentally working it out. "That's at least ten miles at a guess," he took a glance out the window, "At this rate, we'll do that in about three minutes, but even if we do make it, I don't know what kind of landing we can pull of…this thing is tough, but it isn't indestructible."

"Will the harness hold for that long?" Ron asked as he propped himself up against the seat by Snape's knee and rubbed his knee.

"We'll find out in three minutes," Etean answered him. "Keep steering us down a touch, with a slight lean to the right," he instructed Snape, "That should keep Altair in position as much as possible."

Etean turned back to the window and started to count down from one hundred and eighty. Three minutes was just a guess, he really had no idea how far they'd get in that time, but it was a nice round number, if only slightly realistic. Snape's long slow descent wouldn't do a thing to help them, but Snape would think it did. Right now, that was enough. Etean stretched out his mind to the lead of the carriage team. He made three attempts to snare the flailing harness before he caught it and tugged it back toward Altair. He pulled it taut and held on for dear life. Behind him, he heard Harry start to come round and Ron attempt to settle him, the fear in his voice clearly evident.

The seconds slid by agonisingly slowly. Etean felt his faint grip on the harness start to slip. He wasn't going to be able to hold it much longer, and when his grip went, Altair would certainly break free. At the two minute mark he heard Snape tell the other three to take cover. He yelled at Etean too over the growing rattle in the carriage as the harness continued to buck and whip against its brackets, but Etean ignored him; if they got down in one piece, he'd be ok, if they didn't then no amount of cover would make the slightest difference. With forty five seconds remaining he heard Snape screaming again for him to take cover. The floor dropped from beneath him as Snape hit the gimbal hard with his palm, mashing it down as the signal for the team to land the carriage. Etean felt his grip fly loose on the harness as Snape tackled him bodily from behind and bore him down onto the seat. The tension in the carriage mounted as they dropped out of the sky. Etean felt Snape tense, realising that the ground wasn't far away, but his face was too muffled to be able to tell the Professor what to expect.

The carriage dropped fast and then landed with an impossibly loud clatter. The sound reverberated around the cabin like a clap of thunder…but that was all they felt.

Snape released Etean and sat back. Etean turned round to see his expression of confusion turn to a scowl. "What was that?"

"The harness," Etean breathed, "it held…the hippogriffs got us down…anything they can take, this carriage can take."

"So in other words," Ron looked over with a rueful grin, "We were lucky?"

"Well," Etean shrugged, "Yeah. If the harness had given out even a few seconds before we landed…we'd…well, we wouldn't be having this chat now would we?"

Etean didn't wait for an answer. He picked himself up and clambered rather stiffly out of the carriage. Neville was behind him in a second, spilling yet more of his breakfast onto the ground. Etean surveyed their surroundings. They had come to a halt in the middle of a rather large grazing field. There were no livestock in sight, but that wasn't a surprise to him, given what manner of thing lived just a few short miles away.

When he had caught his breath, Etean turned to make an inspection of the carriage. He examined the wheels and the suspension, everything seemed to have held together alright. The harness brackets…all fine. The chassis seemed to be in one piece…everything good there. The majority of the harness rigging against the hippogriffs was intact too; right up to…he let out a whistle, Ron had certainly been right, they had been lucky. Altair's harness was hanging on by a thread, or rather, a buckle. Etean looked at his family crest glinting in the early morning sunlight, barely caught in the loop of the harness. He felt his gaze drawn skyward.

"Thank you, father," he whispered, "Looks like I owe you one!"

"How is it?" Ron's voice beside him made him jump. He turned to look at him for a moment and then back to Altair. His harness was in tatters, but that wasn't the worst problem in evidence. Even standing still, Etean could see him favouring his right foreleg.

"We're in good shape I think, but this," he pointed to Altair, "is a problem."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, appearing at Ron's elbow. He looked as pale as watered down milk. Etean was amazed at the fact that he could stand, let alone walk.

"Harry?" Ron asked, taking his arm, "You should sit down, mate."

"I'm fine," Harry shook him off, "What's the problem?" he asked again.

Etean shrugged and turned back to Altair, bowing slightly. "He's hurt," the hippogriff bowed back to him and Etean approached, gingerly reaching out to touch his shoulder joint. Altair recoiled and hissed furiously, "Ok, ok," Etean spread his arms in surrender, "I won't touch it, but I have to undo the harness, alright?"

Altair eyed him cautiously for a moment, and then bowed again. "Can he fly?" Harry asked as Etean started to remove the remnants of the harness.

The shoulder injury would certainly affect him in flight, slow him down, reduce his ability to manoeuvre easily, but, "I think so," he responded. Once Altair was freed, he took a few ginger steps forward and stopped a short distance away, again favouring his leg badly. Etean frowned, "But I don't think he'll be able to go back into the formation, not today at the very least."

"That is a problem," Ron said, surveying their surroundings, "How far do you suppose we've come?"

"Not far enough," Snape answered as he strode over from tending to Neville's dodgy stomach, "We need to get airborne again as soon as possible," he took hold of Harry and persuaded him to sit as he took another look at the glaring bruise on his head, "How long do you suppose it will take?"

Etean gave the carriage another brief examination. "Not too long. I can repair the harness and rig it to take an eleven hippogriff team instead of twelve. It won't be as manoeuvrable, or quite as fast, but it'll fly."

"Then do it," Snape ordered, scanning the horizon warily, "and hurry."

Etean nodded and set to work. He severed a couple of the guide straps that had been attached to Altair and tossed them aside.

"What about Altair?" Ron asked. Etean looked over to see him petting the hippogriff gently. "Don't we need him to steer us or something?"

Etean smiled. 'Well spotted,' "You'll be alright," he said, "Sirius can guide you just as easily. The rest will follow his lead just as they followed Altair," he reached up to pet Altair's flying partner affectionately. As he adjusted the bridle, he became aware of a very pregnant silence behind them. He turned round to see Ron, Harry and even Snape looking at him like he had just grown horns. "What?"

Harry stood up. "What did you say?"

Etean frowned. "What?" he thought back, "I said Sirius here can steer you to London," Harry looked at Sirius, his face fell, "What?" Etean laughed, "He isn't going to get lost or anything…"

Harry wasn't listening to him. He walked up and bowed slightly to Sirius and then approached on his welcoming nod. Ron abandoned Altair and joined him. Etean looked at the two of them petting the great silver beast with a vague sense that he was missing something. He finished tying the harness together, satisfied that it would hold and moved off. He stopped beside Professor Snape, who looked at him and shook his head. "Long story," he said, "Are we ready."

Etean nodded. "You're all set. You can leave when ready. You shouldn't need the controls; Sirius can get you there on his own."

Snape nodded, and then paused. "Guide us?" he glowered at Etean, "What about you?"

Etean pointed to his injured pet. "I can't leave him here, and he won't be able to keep up with the carriage. But he'll follow me to London easily enough at his own pace."

"I hope you don't think that I am about to leave you here, Mr Etean," Snape snarled, "In case you had forgotten, this isn't safe territory at the moment."

Etean rolled his eyes. "No, I hadn't forgotten, and the longer we stand here arguing, the less safe it gets. I'll be fine Professor," he smiled, "there are precious few things in this world that can catch an eagle when it has a mind not to be caught. Now please, go, I'll be right behind you."

Snape didn't seem the least bit happy with the arrangement, but as far as Etean was concerned, he could lump it. The thought of actually flying to London had lodged in his brain, and he wasn't about to give it up. In the end, after a brief and utterly fruitless argument, Snape ordered the other three into the carriage and, with one last savage warning, clambered aboard. It took a moment for Ron and Harry to tear themselves from Sirius. After a second shout from Snape, Ron limped over to the doorway behind a very reluctant Harry and turned to Etean. "You know," he started, "If you don't make it to London…Ginny will be pissed!"

Etean nodded, a little confused at the gesture.

Ron climbed up, helped with his knee by Neville. Snape shook his head once more at Etean and then closed the door. Etean watched as the carriage rumbled off and took to the sky. It was soon lost amid the clouds. Etean took a deep breath…he was free, at least for the moment. He moved over to Altair and petted him. "Are you up for this boy?" he asked, "Can you make it all the way to London?"

The hippogriff looked at him with a glare that clearly said, 'Of course I can, petty human, lead on!' Etean smiled. He turned to get his bearings and stopped short as the tiny hairs on his neck told him he was being watched. He turned his gaze to the eastern hill to see a trio of black figures, silhouetted against an angry sky, gazing down at him. Etean tensed for a moment, and then noted that none of them had their wands drawn. 'Lets not give them a chance to change their minds,' he thought. "Come on, Altair!" he called as he sprinted into the air and headed south east without so much as a backward glance.

_A/N: There seems to be a bit of confusion over who exactly went to London and who stayed behind. The travelling groups were: Carriage 1: Snape, Etean, Harry, Ron and Neville. Carriage 2: McGonagall, Ginny, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones and Terry Boot. Everyone else - Hermione and Draco included stayed in Hogwarts...hopes this clears it up._


	50. Ceremonial Aggravations

Heavy black clouds covered all of southern England. The sky had been threatening rain all day, and as the hour rolled on toward ten in the morning it carried out that threat. To stay dry as he flew further and further south, Etean had been forced to climb higher and higher. The altitude didn't bother him in the slightest; he was perfectly happy to soar into the heavens until the world below was nothing but a blur, even to his eagle eyes. Altair, however, was not so free. The hippogriff was doing an excellent job of keeping up, but he was hurt and the higher they flew, the harder it became for him. Etean screeched again and slowed his pace, well aware of the stubborn pride of his pet. He banked and circled him once, calling to him to gauge his response. Altair's answering call was clear and harsh: he was not happy about being questioned by a tiny little wretch like Etean.

Now, where was he?

A bearing from the sun showed him how far south he had come, but the cloud held no landmarks to aid navigation. To make matters worse, the eagle mind that Etean had in this form was small and simple…instinct and feeling guided his decisions. The wind swirled from the east – a momentary concern, should he correct for it or not? A cloud rose before him – should he dodge or fly through?

'Focus, bird brain!' he berated himself.

Etean rolled and dove into the dark, wet clouds. There was little risk in his being seen. An eagle soaring over southern England may be a rare sight, but it wasn't about to make any muggle headlines. The mire closed in around him and all sight was lost. Etean tucked his wings and let out a piercing screech as he plunged into the unknown. Fear found no grip on his mind. Was he at a thousand feet high in the air, a hundred, or only ten? Was the ground a distant grey blur or was it about to become a serious inconvenience? The truth was that he didn't care. If eagles could smile, Etean was sure he would be grinning from ear to ear.

'Holy hell this is fun!'

The cloud around him thinned and he spread his wings, flattening out his reckless plummet just as he dropped into clear air…well clear apart from the rain that is. Sheets of water cascaded down from the ceiling of black, angry clouds and poured down onto…London. 'Well done birdy!' Etean congratulated himself, and then hauled his mind into shape to get his bearings. 'Ok, there's Big Ben…Tower Bridge…that stupid Dome thing…and…so Diagon Alley is…' he turned in flight and set out toward a familiar stretch of city, 'there!'

Cloud swallowed him again as he beat his wings hard to gain altitude. Several moments of disorientation later and he was in sunlight once more, leaving a trail of spray behind him. He banked in the air to bring Altair into view. The hippogriff had spotted him and was turning to follow. Etean watched him for a moment. His flight was far from graceful; it was clear that his wound was really starting to trouble him. Etean called to him again, encouragement, it was only a little further now.

Etean barrel rolled through a wisp of cloud as he felt the slight tingle on his wings that told him that he had just crossed through the magical barrier surrounding Diagon Alley. Almost instantly, dark shapes appeared and rose rapidly through the clouds beneath him. In seconds, four wizards on broomsticks had emerged at equal distance ahead, behind and to either side of him. Three of the Aurors dropped back and took formation surrounding Altair. Etean called once to Altair to stay any reaction from the beast, and then dipped his wings and slowed into formation with their new escort, drawing alongside the nearest Auror. The man took aim at Etean with his wand and with his other hand made a deliberate gesture downward. Catching his meaning, Etean let out a low whistle and tucked his wings. The Auror backed away slightly, but remained on guard as the formation dropped into the cloud and began a slow spiral toward the ground.

Diagon Alley came into view below. Etean saw that the twisting, cobbled street was deserted. Two more Auror guards rose up on an intercept heading to meet him before he reached spell casting range of the ground, while his escort dropped back to fly behind him. The three men held their distance and formation as they directed him with careful certainty toward the widest section of the street; a large open area that had been cleared to make room for landings.

The rain water flowed in rivulets from the gutters of the buildings to pound the cobbles. Etean straightened his flight and dropped to land. The trio of guards held their altitude and slowed to a hover overhead, still keeping him in their sights. Etean dropped down onto the cobbles, pushing himself out and stretching to his normal form as he touched down. His cloak materialised around him, already sheeting with water in the second it took to add a heavy splat to his otherwise graceful landing. His hood flew up to cover his head as his knees bent under his weight.

No sooner had he landed than his rapidly expanding mind registered an imminent threat. Etean sensed aggressive, agitated minds focusing on him. In his minds eye he pictured them, two…three…five…seven…he was surrounded.

With his mind already tensing against whatever may happen, Etean straightened up and scanned the area. His senses told him that he was indeed surrounded on all sides. A tingle of power ran on instinct down to his fingertips as his fists balled. 'Wait, moron, this is London…friendly territory. The people around you are Aurors, and they have every reason to be cautious of you. You did just drop out of the sky…and you are dressed all in black…ring a bell?' Etean forced himself to relax and breathe out his tension.

One of the men covering him stepped out, keeping his wand aimed at Etean's heart. The man's lip quivered, but he didn't speak. Rain water had plastered his dark fringe to his forehead, it ran freely down over his face, making him blink rapidly to maintain clear vision. Around him, Etean sensed the other men move out to cover him, but they held their distance. With deliberate and visible caution, Etean raised his arms wide to spread his cloak and reveal his Hogwarts robes underneath. He shook his left hand free to tug his hood down.

The Auror in front of him tensed. "Don't move!"

Etean heard a definite tremble in his voice. There was a glimmer of uncertainty in the man's eye. His was a large chunk of the agitation Etean had been sensing. Etean watched his movements, picturing a dozen ways to disarm and overpower the man before he would know what hit him…just in case. This man was green, definitely a raw recruit. Green meant nervous, nervous meant trouble, trouble meant…

'Oh stop it Etean!' the thought was a bark inside his skull. That train of thought was only going to make matters worse. The man stepped forward gingerly. Obediently, Etean didn't move. He watched as the Auror struggled to keep his footing on the slippery cobbles while maintaining eye contact with his prisoner…there was no other word for Etean's current situation. He had never before been to the Ministry headquarters in London, and it didn't look like he'd missed out on any hospitality. 'What would they have done if they _hadn't_ invited me here?'

The end of the Auror's wand flickered red for a moment. "Wand," he demanded shakily.

Etean lowered his hand to retrieve his wand, but the Auror stiffened at his movement and flexed the fingers of his wand hand. From deep inside his hood, Etean raised an eyebrow. "I'll have to move if you want me to give you my wand," he explained.

The man swallowed. His eyes narrowed with the strain he was clearly feeling. Then, to Etean's utter amazement, he turned his head and looked away. That was too much. Recruit or not, green trainee or not, Etean refused to believe that it was possible for _anyone_ to be this dumb. Here the man had moved to within easy striking distance of his target, had him at wandpoint, and now he was just _offering_ him a chance to overpower him? Etean turned his head slightly as he felt a surge of annoyance from another Auror behind him. He too was apparently bewildered, and seriously un-amused by his colleague's actions. The guard turned back to Etean and straightened up. "Wand!" he repeated. "Slowly."

Etean moved to obey. His hand had gotten halfway to his hip when there was a mighty commotion behind him. The Aurors that had been circling on broomsticks shot skyward and out of his sight. A series of muffled shouts and startled yelps rent the air, followed by a fierce, guttural screech and then the crunch of breaking masonry. Etean smiled, he knew without looking that Altair had just made a less than perfect landing. He sensed no panic from the Aurors as they shifted their attention to the new threat, all except for the guard that was watching Etean. His panic slammed into Etean's mind like a cold fire. His wand levelled at Etean's head and he drew a breath to cast a spell.

Etean's mind tensed, he knew not what spell was coming, but he didn't intend to wait. Dropping his wrist and shaking his wand lose with a vicious flick, he stepped forward and raised his free hand to block the Auror's wand and raise it high. The man managed to croak out, "Stupefy!" but his curse shot harmlessly into the air. Etean brought his wand up and pressed the tip into the man's throat. The Auror tensed, again belying his lack of training. Far from attempting to free himself, he seemed to be bracing himself for death.

"Hold it right there!" a gravely voice boomed behind Etean. It appeared to be coming from the same man who had become annoyed with this Aurors behaviour.

Etean stared at the Auror for a moment and then released him and stepped back. He turned his wand upside down in his fingers and held it out to the side. A rough, calloused hand took it and its owner moved into sight. He kept his back to Etean and addressed the still trembling Auror. "What in Merlin's name did you think you were doin, O'Neill?" he growled.

He turned to present his profile to Etean, and what a profile. The man had to be the ugliest wizard Etean had ever seen. His face was cratered and burned, every inch of exposed skin covered with countless scars. His right eye had been replaced by an enchanted artificial one that moved and swivelled in its socket in a dizzying manner. Etean had read enough Ministry reports to know this man, it could only be Alastor Moody, and he was pissed.

The Auror recruit before him cowered. "I…I was attempting to subdue the prisoner, sir, but…he got the better of me."

"Prisoner? What prisoner? This," Moody jabbed a gnarled finger at Etean, "is a schoolboy."

"Sir…I did not know…"

"Was the uniform not a big enough clue for you?"

"…I…"

"Or did you maybe consider _asking_ him to identify himself?" The man remained silent, though his mouth did open and close a few times. Moody scoffed and turned away from his recruit to face Etean. "You had better be Lord Etean," he growled.

"I am." Etean inclined his head slightly.

Moody's magical eye roved, his real one narrowed. "And you can…prove it?" Etean raised his hand slowly and thumbed his ring in plain sight. Moody paused, and then nodded. "Good enough." He straightened up and bellowed, "Stand down!" Around him, Etean heard and sensed the Aurors relaxing. "You'll forgive the welcome, my lord," Moody grumbled. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Tis the only way they'll learn." Etean nodded. Moody turned back and started lecturing the unfortunate recruit once more on the finer points of suspect apprehension. It seemed to be a lecture he was tired of delivering. Etean turned round slowly and surveyed the street behind him. About a dozen people were milling about, all wearing the plain, grey robes of Aurors on duty. Their duty now was to calm a very unhappy, injured hippogriff.

The scene on the street was one of barely controlled chaos. Altair had collided with and demolished a fair sized chimney on his way in and was now standing in the middle of the street, atop a pile of fresh rubble, with the Aurors forming a rough circle round him, attempting to subdue him. Etean was fairly certain that this particular exercise was not amongst those in the Auror training manuals, and, from the looks of things, perhaps it would make sense for them to add it in.

Altair was terribly spooked. His arrival had caused a shower of rubble to rain down on the sodden street, showering those below with stone and dust. Nobody appeared to be hurt, however, and Altair didn't seem to have injured himself any worse than before. He was standing defiant and proud, rearing and pulling hard at the simple rope harness that a trio of Aurors had managed to loop around his neck. They were hauling on it with all their might in a vain attempt to control the hippogriff. Most of the rest seemed intent on keeping clear while their colleagues did all the work. A couple of braver souls were trying to sneak round to Altair's blind side to loop on another harness. They hadn't even gotten close to their goal before Altair saw them and lashed out with his good foreleg, sending the two men flying back to avoid being mauled. From their safe distance, three more apparently decided that there was no other option. They each raised their wands and took aim at Altair.

Before they could fire, Etean whispered a vocal enhancing charm and then took a breath, "Altair…Settle!"

The sound of his voice echoed off the walls. It was followed by a stifling silence as Altair settled down. His head and his stance remained high and defiant, but his training overrode his instincts for the moment. Etean breathed out the charm and turned to the nearest Auror. "You should be able to handle him now, but be careful…he's hurt!" The Auror nodded and stepped forward cautiously under the cover of his fellows.

Moody appeared at Etean's side. "Impressive creature."

"That he is," Etean agreed with him.

Moody clucked his tongue. "Quite a temper he's got though."

"He's trained to obey me," Etean replied. "He won't be any more trouble to you, but he needs assistance."

"We were told," Moody nodded, "He'll be seen to, but," he pointed to an open door, now flanked by Aurors, "you should be gettin inside, they are waitin for ye."

Etean nodded. "My wand?" he held out his hand.

Moody shook his head. "Sorry lad, Lord or no Lord, no wands permitted in the Ministry Headquarters today."

Etean raised an eyebrow. "New security measures?"

"Somethin like that," he stepped away and pointed at the door again, "Your wand'll be waitin for ye when you get out."

Etean frowned. The new security measure was a reasonable, and altogether a sensible precaution. 'Fair enough,' he shrugged. Moody strode forward and took personal charge of the Aurors tending to Altair, bellowing at the top of his lungs to summon a husband to come and treat his injuries. Satisfied that the hippogriff would be alright, Etean headed toward the door as indicated. The building before him didn't look like much, but that wasn't a real surprise. Etean knew that the Ministry Headquarters was underground, out of sight, and that access was only possible via a few, carefully positioned entrances.

The Aurors on guard watched his approach, but did nothing to impede him as he crossed the threshold. Inside he doffed his hood and paused to shake off the excess water from his cloak. The room he entered was not what he had expected, however. Instead of a grim security station, he found himself confronted with the dilapidated remains of what looked like a pet shop. Rows on rows of empty animal cages lined one wall, while a long counter, layered in dust, lined the other. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but, 'A pet shop?' He shook off the thought, sensing that he wasn't alone. Other than the two guards outside, he could sense at least three other people in the building, one of whom was moving toward him. After a moment, a door set into the wall and totally hidden by the cages swung open.

Arthur Weasley entered and turned toward him. "Lord Etean, I presume," he stopped before him and extended his hand in greeting, "Arthur Weasley, at your service."

He smiled, but Etean could see through it. His duties and his apparent desire to look at ease not withstanding, the bags beneath his eyes and the barely perceptible slump to his shoulders betrayed the stress he was under. This day was a reminder of the cost of war, and how it hit closest on those who had lost. Mr Weasley had lost, so had his whole family. In the time it took him to blink, Etean pushed those thoughts aside and shook Mr Weasley's offered hand. "Robert Etean, at yours…you can drop the Lord part if you'd like."

Mr Weasley's ears glowed briefly. "Why thank you…erm, my lord," he said as he released Etean's hand. Etean caught the merest whiff of cinnamon on his breath and couldn't stop his eyebrow from twitching,

'Stim-broth anyone?' he thought. He wondered just how many stimulants and other pick-me-up potions had become part of daily life for those on the front line of the war.

Mr Weasley cleared his throat. "It is good to see that you made it here in one piece," he paused and seemed to falter, "Severus…that is Professor Snape was most distressed that you may have fallen into…erm, difficulties," he paused, "I trust there were no…complications on your way here?"

"No, Mr Weasley," the image of three hooded figures watching him coldly from the top of a hill in Coventry flashed momentarily before Etean's eyes, "none at all."

"Excellent, excellent," Mr Weasley beamed, "well then, we'd best be getting you inside." Etean had expected him to turn and lead him into the building, but Mr Weasley didn't move. Instead he drew his wand and looked mildly sheepish.

"Is there a problem, Mr Weasley?" Etean asked.

"Problem?" Mr Weasley stammered. "Why…no, no problem. It is just that…well, what with our new security protocols and…I'm sure you'll understand…"

"Understand what?"

"Well," Mr Weasley fingered his wand nervously, "well, that I have to…search you…before I can admit you to the Ministry building."

"Search me?" Etean suppressed a smile. It really was starting to appear that the Ministry was finally getting the hang of the whole war thing. No wands, searching guests on arrival. Etean wondered just what kind of things they had chosen to prohibit. Doubtless he was carrying some of them, but he wasn't worried, his cloak would protect him from the search, but Lord Etean would object. "I hardly think that's necessary. Mr Moody already has my wand…"

"Has he?" Arthur looked out over Etean's shoulder, "Well…that saves me the trouble of that at least…but I am afraid I still have…"

Etean raised a hand. "I understand," he sighed, "you have your job to do," he spread his arms wide, "Orders are orders, Mr Weasley. By all means, proceed."

Arthur seemed a little nervous; clearly he wasn't used to having to invade peoples' privacy in this manner. He raised his wand and muttered a spell under his breath causing it to glow with a faint white light. Then he slowly passed it along Etean's robes, moving first from his wrists to his shoulders, then running it across his torso and down both legs. He stood again and walked round him to repeat the search from behind. Just as he had expected, Etean felt nothing of this. Mr Weasley finished his search and pocketed his wand with a smile. "All clear," he said brightly. "Now," he sighed in relief, "if you would follow me, my lord."

'I said you can drop the lord bit,' Etean thought as he followed behind Mr Weasley, 'I am dating your daughter after all.' He wondered if Ginny had actually told her father about him as they left the shop through the same door that had admitted Mr Weasley and entered what appeared to be a small dining room. It was deserted and bare save for an ornate fireplace set into one wall. Etean stared at it. "I was under the impression that the Floo Network had been shut down."

"It has," Mr Weasley told him as he walked over and took out a small glass orb from his robes, "but we have made special arrangements for today." He held it up to his mouth, "Lord Robert Etean, en route," he said clearly.

Almost instantly, the fireplace sprang to life with vivid green flames. 'Activated at the other end," Etean thought, 'Inventive.'

Mr Weasley stood to one side and gestured for Etean to enter. "It will take you to your destination…just step inside."

Etean looked at him and nodded. "Thank you, Mr Weasley," he said and stepped forward into the fireplace. The flames billowed around him and he felt a sudden rushing sensation. The journey was short, sooner than he had expected to, Etean found himself on solid ground once more. He stepped forward, batting his robes to shake off the soot, only to find himself at the wrong end of yet another Auror wand.

'Not again,' he said to himself, 'these guys are really paranoid.'

Ministerial security had been increased to annoying levels it seemed. Etean settled his mind and took a clean view of his surroundings. He pushed his senses outward and determined that he was now below ground level, though he had no idea how far. The Auror, and more precisely, his wand, took most of his attention; this was no raw recruit. The owner of this wand knew precisely what he was doing. "Identify yourself," he said. It was an order, and it carried all the menace of a sheathed dagger.

"Robert Etean," Etean answered, raising his hand to show his ring.

Etean watched the man's eyes travel to his ring and back to his face again in less than a heartbeat. "I have to search you," he said.

Etean simply nodded. 'Anyone would think they didn't want me to get in,' he let the thought bounce around his head, mildly curious as to what _this_ man would do if he were to see any of the little toys secreted away inside his cloak. Etean schooled his features as he was searched again, with more professionalism than before, though no less thoroughly.

The man finished his work and stepped back. Aiming his wand at a blank section of wall, he said, "Occloportal." An elevator door appeared out of nowhere. Etean didn't wait to be told before he stepped up to it. There were no controls visible, no way to summon the lift. He cast a glance over his shoulder to see a casual smirk on the Auror's face. "Not so fast," he said calmly before revealing a glass orb, similar to the one Mr Weasley had used, and raising it to his lips, "Password: Camouflage," he said. There was a ping of a bell and the elevator doors opened. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, Lord Etean," the man said to Etean's retreating back as he stepped into the elevator.

Once the doors had shut behind him, Etean allowed himself a little sigh. There were again, no controls inside the elevator. He guessed that he simply had to wait for someone to activate the lift. At a guess, he imagined that he was under surveillance, and maybe being covertly searched yet again. He performed a little mental exercise as he waited for the lift to move, reciting a meditation he had learned as a child. He had gotten halfway through when, with a barely discernable shudder, the lift started to move, ascending rather than descending as Etean had expected it to. There was a second ping as it came to a halt, and the doors slid open. Etean immediately heard the hustle and bustle of a gathered crowd. Settling his mind, he straightened his robes and stepped forward.

He found himself in a long, broad corridor with a high ceiling. He wasn't familiar in the least with this section of the Ministry complex, it hadn't ever been included in the reports he had read. The décor screamed order, calm clear direction in all things. It was possible, he imagined, that it had been purpose built for today's gathering.

It certainly looked new. The walls and floor were of polished marble, inlayed with a strangely geometric pattern, a far cry from the flowing natural lines of the raw stone. Slender columns of solid black marble were set at regular intervals along both walls, solidifying the boundaries of the space without dominating. High windows set into the opposite wall showed an impressive view of the London skyline. Midday sunlight streamed in and, added to the warm candlelight that poured down from a dozen floating chandeliers overhead, it reflected off every surface and made the whole space seem warm and welcoming. The air carried the faint hint of a floral bouquet which Etean couldn't quite identify. The atmosphere in the corridor was relaxed, a welcome change to the fear and razor sharp tension of the street above. He looked around, getting his bearings.

Nobody was there to greet him, which came as a mild surprise. A couple of dozen people were scattered throughout the corridor, talking and smiling to one another as though they hadn't a care in the world. Some of them looked over at Etean and he saw recognition flash across more than one face, but no one made any attempt to engage him in conversation. Etean scanned the crowd again and then caught sight of a familiar red head moving toward him from his right. 'At last, a friendly face,' he thought to himself with a smile. Ginny stepped round a cluster of witches and stopped in front of Etean. He had opened his mouth to speak when he saw her move. Only the fact that it was Ginny stalled his reaction as the back of her clenched fist collided with his cheekbone. There was a bright flash before his eyes and he lurched sideways under the force of the blow.

"You bastard," was all Ginny spat at him before she turned into a vanishing red spot in the crowd. Etean stood up and turned to watch her storm away, nearly colliding with a slightly plump, red headed witch that just had to be her mother. Mrs Weasley was staring at Etean in disbelief, clearly bewildered at her daughter's actions. The other wizards around him stared too. There was a moment of collective stunned silence before everyone pointedly turning back to their conversations. Nobody made any comment; no one offered to assist him or asked if he was alright. Political etiquette demanded that they simply not see someone of Lord Etean's stature so publicly affronted.

Etean adjusted his robes and rolled his jaw. 'This day just gets better and better,' he grumbled to himself. His initial inclination was to charge off after Ginny, but he thought better of it. Whatever the reason, she had to be really mad for her to punch him like that and Etean wasn't in a major rush to give her an opportunity to do it again. Mrs. Weasley rocked on the balls of her feet before giving him an embarrassed smile and turning to follow her daughter.

Etean shook his head and turned to see Professor Snape walking toward him with purpose from the opposite direction. Snape stopped before him and nodded; the gesture looked vaguely like a bow. "My Lord Etean," he said in a very sincere tone.

Etean thought that his tone was a little formal, even given the setting. "Professor," he answered, slightly curious.

"It is my honour to officially welcome you to the Headquarters of the Ministry of Magic. Minister Fudge sends his apologies for not welcoming you personally as he is regrettably mired by the matters of state."

Etean nodded – now he got it. Snape was doing his job. This was a show for the eyes, or rather the ears around them. "I see, Professor, and thank you for the explanation," he paused momentarily, really not wanting to say the next part, "Does the Minister's schedule leave him any free time? I had hoped for a chance to speak with him before the ceremony…to thank him for inviting me."

Snape's face remained blank. "No thanks are needed, my lord," Snape paused as though in thought for a moment, "The Minister is in his office at the moment, engaged, as I said, in official business, but I am sure that he wouldn't refuse to see you," the Professor turned and gestured down the corridor.

Etean nodded and headed off. Snape fell into stride beside him in silence. Etean made eye contact with some of the people they passed, sharing a tiny smile with each of them in turn. He had to force his face to remain blank. Something about their faces' struck him as odd, but, like the scent in the air, Etean couldn't place it. Along the way, he noticed several Aurors at attention, standing guard in the corridor. This was nothing to do with any memorial, the Ministry was putting on a show of strength today.

Two thirds of the way along the corridor, Snape stopped and opened an unmarked door. At his gesture, Etean stepped through into another, darker corridor. This one was deserted. Snape shut the door behind them and sighed. Etean turned around. Snape caught his eye and gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. He brushed past Etean and marched off down the corridor. "I was expecting you over an hour ago," he snarled over his shoulder, all trace of etiquette gone now from his voice, "What delayed you?"

Etean shrugged. "Altair…I had to take my time so he could keep up."

"How is it?" Snape asked, though Etean doubted if he cared.

"Fine, I left him with the man at the surface…Moody?"

"Yes…I informed him that your animal would need assistance, I am sure it will be well taken care of."

Snape stopped abruptly and held up his arm to block Etean's path. Without a word, he moved over to a blank section of the wall. He reached up and tapped a curious rhythm on the bricks with his knuckle. Etean heard a faint scraping sound and felt the energy in the corridor shift slightly. He turned to Snape. "Checkpoint?"

Snape nodded. "Disorientation charms," he pointed to the floor ahead of them, "They make the corridor impassable. We wouldn't have gotten ten paces before we were both suddenly and irretrievably lost. A dozen alarms would have gone off and we'd have been stuck, searching for a way out of this tiny corridor until the guards found us."

"I see." Etean was genuinely impressed, and somewhat annoyed that he hadn't seen the charm on the floor. He made a mental note not to let it happen again. "The Ministry has certainly been upgrading security around here."

"Not before time," Snape drawled, "Professor Dumbledore has been pushing these measures for months. It seems that the Minister is finally listening to sense."

"Professor Dumbledore came up with this?" Etean pointed to the floor. The scraping sound died down and Snape moved forward again.

"No," he said quietly, "I created the actual charm, which is quite impressive even if I do say it myself….the idea for it was Professor Dumbledore's originally, however."

"I see," Etean repeated, trying to gauge the tone of Snape's voice. Was it anger, or frustration? "Are there any other little pitfalls that I should be aware of?"

"There is no need to be concerned with the security measures," Snape paused and turned to him with a tiny smile, "Though I would watch our step if I were you."

"I'll be sure to," Etean said flatly. He worked his jaw, feeling a twinge of pain from where a bruise was already starting to appear. What the hell had gotten into that girl? He shook his head. He'd deal with her later, for now he had other things to worry about.

There were no guards in this corridor, or anyone at all for that matter. Their footsteps seemed to echo forever off the walls. Snape led him down the corridor, through three more, well hidden security traps before they reached their destination. Snape didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. One look at the unmarked door, and at the men at either side of it, was more than enough for Etean to identify the Minister's Office.

On one side stood an Auror, and not a junior one by his appearance. This man appeared to be more rested than the others that Etean had seen today, but he didn't look comfortable in the least. He was holding his stance at attention with almost visible pain. His back and arms were tensed rigid and Etean could see his pulse thump in his neck even from a distance. Etean suppressed a smile, he knew the reason for the man's stature, that reason was standing on the other side of the door…an Etyar guard. The guard snapped to full attention the second he saw Etean, his arms snapped to his chest in salute. His open left palm pressed into the bare metal of the talon claw on his right fist and drove it toward his heart. The heavy clink of metal on metal pinged around the corridor. Snape hitched his step slightly at the sound; the Auror guard tensed even further; Etean smiled.

Etean had always loved the sheer effortless effect of the Etyar. Their appearance alone spoke volumes. Standing at precisely six feet tall and clad from head to toe in silver plated body armour that totally masked their appearance, the sight of them alone was enough to send the unconscious mind into a tailspin.

'Who is he? Did I see him yesterday? If I saw him tomorrow, would I recognise him? Was he the man that bumped into me on the street this morning?'

The Etyar were a living embodiment of the true art that it was to manipulate human nature. Every one of them looked the same – you could see a hundred and still be left without a single clue to identify the men beneath the armour. The human mind works on details, they are the signposts for happy thoughts. Without details to latch onto, there is nothing to stop paranoia taking root. Looking at an Etyar, people started to fixate on just how much they didn't notice.

'Does he have a wand? What else is he armed with? Is he even a wizard? Behind the mask, is he watching me? How many of them are there? Where are they?'

Etean smiled openly as waited for Snape to clear them with the Auror guard. He faced the Etyar and returned his salute. Were they armed? Ridiculous, of course they were. Were they wizards? Yes, mostly at any rate, but why did that matter? How many of them were there? Also irrelevant, whether there was one, or one thousand, they were effective. Their flawless service record was testimony to that. Even though they had stood guard at the gates of the Adjutaire for over two hundred years now, people were still uneasy around them. On more than one occasion, Etean had witnessed people actually crossing the street to avoid walking past them. The mystery that surrounded them was better than any weapon they could carry.

People fear the unknown, all people, everywhere. Even here, even now, Professor Snape and an Auror, both men fully trained in dealing with the dangerous and unknown were uncomfortable simply standing next to an Etyar. Etean wondered what they would do if they found out that there were in fact two Etyar in the corridor, one they could see and the other standing, invisible, in the corner. They would never know he was there, at least they had better hope that they never knew he was there. His presence, his very existence would remain concealed unless a need arose for him to act, which would mean trouble. Until then, he would simply stand there, just like his partner.

Etean was reminded of an old saying: 'When you see one Etyar, there are two, when you see two, there are five, when you see five…worry!'

Snape's method of dealing with it was to ignore the problem. He deliberately avoided even looking at the Etyar as he stepped forward to open the door. As Etean followed Snape through the doorway, the Etyar finally dropped his salute. Etean suddenly felt his smile fade. There could only be one explanation for the Etyar being on station here. They had to be the personal escort of Renée Valjean, which meant that the Counsellor was inside with the Minister, and that Etean was about to be tossed into the middle of Fudge's little political battle of wills. He suppressed a scowl. 'We'll see about that!'

The outer office was empty. Snape stepped aside and pointed toward the closed door of the inner office. He made no move to open it. Clearly he didn't intend to join the meeting, Etean didn't blame him. Still, he allowed himself no moment of hesitation before he crossed the room and opened the door.

Etean had barely the chance to scan the room on the other side before Minister Fudge was on his feet and bustling toward him. "My Lord Etean," he puffed, "How very good it is to see you."

"And you Minister," Etean replied automatically, "It has been too long." 'Not nearly long enough!' he added to himself to keep his mind occupied.

"Indeed," Fudge beamed, "It has been…oh let me see now…sixteen months?"

"I believe it has, Minister, the fund raiser for the Salem institute if I recall."

Fudge smiled and barked out a laugh. Behind his smile, Etean sensed a rage of anxiety. "I shall have to bow to your superior memory on that point, my lord," Fudge chuckled and laid a hand conspiratorially on Etean's shoulder, "I'm afraid that I must admit that I am forced to attend so many such functions that my mind has trouble sorting them out."

Etean smiled. "I know what you mean," he said brightly, allowing Fudge to believe that his humour was winning him over.

Fudge motioned Etean into the office and stepped around him to close the door. The room fell into darkness save for the sparse candles which were scattered around, far less than Etean would have expected in a working office. Dark wood lined every surface within the office and the curtains covering the large windows were drawn tight, adding to the claustrophobic atmosphere. Fudge led Etean toward a large fireplace, the only other source of light in the room apart from the candles. Several high backed leather chairs had been drawn forward around the fire, and they were occupied. Etean sighed, now he got it – this was the perfect setting for a quiet, intimate little chat. He had to stop his eyes from rolling. 'Come on!' Professor Dumbledore was seated in a chair facing him. He looked up and smiled at Etean from behind his glasses. Etean returned his smile, wondering just what little tricks Dumbledore had up his sleeve.

True to his surmise, Etean turned his head to see Renée Valjean standing up from another chair. His face was the same as always, pale and lean. His thinning black hair was parted neatly in the middle and slicked down to his scalp. Etean reached out to take the hand that was automatically offered. "Counsellor," he said in a simple, plain tone.

"Mon Seigneur," Valjean answered, his voice never quite hiding his once thick Normandy accent, "but please, how ofsen must I ask you to call me Renée?"

Etean smiled at him. "As always, Counsellor, at least once per conversation. Though," he allowed himself a tiny chuckle, "if past experience is anything to go on, I don't think I shall ever listen."

Valjean smiled and shook his head slightly. "As you wish, mon seigneur, as you wish."

Fudge released Etean's shoulder and moved to draw another seat out. Without waiting to be invited, Etean sat down. Fudge beamed. "Can I offer you anything to drink, my lord? Some tea perhaps, or maybe," he added with the merest of glances toward Dumbledore, "something stronger?"

Etean shook his head. "Nothing, thank you, Minister."

"Of course, my lord. Though, if you change your mind, please do not hesitate to ask." Fudge bustled around to his seat and sat down.

Valjean took up a delicate cup from the table before him and took a sip. "I hear that your journey here sis morning was not wizout incident, mon seigneur," Etean saw his eyes dart for a moment to Dumbledore, "I trust sat all is well?"

Etean left a deliberate pause. "Entirely," he replied, "Nothing more than some trouble with one of my carriages. An inconvenience to be sure," he sat back and smiled, "but not a problem."

Valjean nodded. "Tres Bien! I was most distressed when I heard of your difficultiez."

Etean remained passive. 'I bet you were!'

Fudge coughed slightly to regain the floor of the conversation. "I think, that while we are all extremely grateful that you weren't…inconvenienced in any way, my lord, we should perhaps return our conversation to the matter at hand," he said, "that is our current supply crisis and how France may be in a position to help alleviate our problems."

Etean looked momentarily at Dumbledore. Supply crisis? Surely that wasn't their angle?

Valjean set his cup down and cleared his throat. "Please Cornelius," he said, "As I was saying," he shook his head, "I am not in a position to negotiate with you in any regard. To do so would be highly illegal, and entirely fruitless, for either of us."

"No one is negotiating, Renée," Dumbledore shook his head, "This is a conversation, nothing more."

"Yes," Fudge chimed in, "Just an informal chat between friends."

Valjean shook his head and sighed. "I had thought you were too intelligent to be so transparent. But," he smiled, "let us proceed as you say for the moment. I believe you were voicing concerns over se shortage of sufficient medicinal potions, and well fashioned dragon hide armour?" he waved the answer off, "Irrelevant…entirely irrelevant. Friendly chat or not, your posturing, while understandable, is far short of addressing se truth of your situation,"

Dumbledore sat forward. "We have made no attempt to deceive you Renée," he said, his voice carried a hint of fatigue.

"Really?" said Valjean.

"Indeed, Renée," Fudge cut across the conversation, "I am sure that Albus has conveyed our situation and our need for aid to you as truthfully as can be expected under the circumstances."

"Come now Cornelius," said Valjean straightening his deep scarlet robes and standing up, "Don't treat me like a fool. I know full well that while you talk about supply shortages in terms of materiel, your real problem is wizardpower, or lack thereof. Many of your best men and women now lie dead," the temperature seemed to drop a degree or two at that. Valjean raised his arms wide, "Ve are here to honour them are we not?" he didn't wait for an answer, "I am told also that you have an equal number of injured personnel, some of them so severely so that their survival is in real jeopardy. The majority those whom you now call Aurors are in fact merely former civil servants or hastily trained recruits," there was a long pause. Etean could see Valjean steel himself for the next sentence, "The plain truth is that you are losing this war, and you are losing it fast."

Etean forced himself not to react. That was about as clean cut and, frankly, vicious a description of the situation as Etean would have thought possible, certainly it was beyond what he had expected to hear today.

Fudge took a moment to compose himself before responding. "It is true that our casualties in this war are…mounting and it is also true that training for the Auror programme has been…restructured of late, but to say that we are losing this war…"

At this, Valjean laughed and turned to Etean. "You see Mon Seigneur, how well sey play se game?"

Etean remained passive as he suddenly became the centre of attention. "Game?" he asked, "What game would that be, Counsellor?"

"They pester me with repeated requests for opening a dialogue to discuss bringing France into the war, something that they know that I will never do. So they phrase their requests in such a way as to make it appear that they are _not_ asking the very thing that they want. They even get you involved, hoping that the involvement of Lord Etean will be enough to lure me here, which of course," he bowed slightly, "it is," Etean nodded slightly to acknowledge the bow as Valjean continued, "They invite me here today to vitness this memorial ceremony, and to view the impressive security measures they have put in place here, in the hope that my opinion of England's prospects will change."

"And just what is your opinion of England's prospects Renée?" asked Dumbledore in a calm voice.

"I would think, Albus, that I have made that more than clear at this point," said Valjean in a cool voice. "England…is in trouble. You know it, and we know it. You have a very difficult time ahead, a time of trial and struggle the outcome of which remains unclear."

Dumbledore nodded calmly. "And France is content to sit idly by during this struggle, and do nothing to assist us?"

Valjean shrugged. "It isn't our fight."

There it was; the line that everyone had been waiting for. Valjean had just opened the door and Fudge leaped through. "Not yet," he said, starting to sound uneasy, "But surely you don't think that V…that our enemy will simply leave you alone once he has defeated us?"

"Do not insult my intelligence by saying such a thing," said Valjean indignantly, "I have been in charge of French foreign security for nearly thirty years now and I have a full and complete picture of every threat that we face, including your Dark Lord."

"He is not _our_ Dark Lord, Counsellor, he is…" Fudge was floundering.

"Renée," said Dumbledore, a little too hastily, "You accuse us of insulting your intelligence, and yet you seek to insult ours at the same time," he leaned forward, "You must conclude that, by not aiding us now, you are in fact merely delaying the inevitable."

"That," Valjean started, then paused, "remains to be seen, Albus, but," his harsh expression softened slightly and he nodded, "you are not alone in your opinion. I have heard similar views expressed by several of my colleagues and I shall answer you now as I answered them then. The simple truth of the matter is, aside from how," Valjean's gaze flicked to Etean for a moment, "any of us may feel, that France is not ready for war. Currently our resources, which are far from limitless let me tell you, are not being used to their fullest. Rectifying the situation is a daunting task and, harsh as it may sound, we must prioritise. As we speak, my government is deep in preparations for the time when their best efforts will be needed to defend _France_."

Valjean took a moment to take a drink of tea. "Even so, there are those amongst us who would advocate granting aid to England…to pre-empt the threat as it were, but they are far from being in the majority. For now, the voices calling for patience and consideration before any committing to this conflict remain the loudest, but," Valjean paused again as he prepared to play his trump card, "in recent times, there has been a small, but growing number of voices whispering their support for…other options."

"Other options?" asked Dumbledore, a frown of concern creasing his brow, "What precisely do you mean?"

Another pause. "There are some," Valjean said, no trace of waver or emotion in his voice, "that believe that the Dark Lord cannot be defeated, and that to oppose him is to invite death," he lowered his head and sighed, "They seek…a compromise."

"You mean surrender!" Dumbledore's eyes hardened ever so slightly. "They would choose to be slaves to evil rather than do what's right?"

"In war," Valjean said sternly, "right and wrong are never so clear cut."

"In war, cowards often speak in those terms, Renée."

Etean's mind stalled. Dumbledore had just touched a nerve. Valjean's face went blank and the colour started to drain from his cheeks.

"Albus!" exclaimed Fudge, "This isn't the time for such…"

"Insults?" Dumbledore finished for him, "I meant none," he nodded to Valjean, "And my apologies to you, Renée, if that is how it sounded. I know you to be a good man."

The placation seemed to have little effect on Valjean. In fact Etean doubted if he had even heard it. "Cowardice has nothing to do with this, Albus," he straightened to his full height, "We have known each other for decades," he spat the last word, "and you know full well that I would never…" he trailed off, appearing too angry to speak, "I would never…betray my country by advocating surrender, or any other such accommodation with the Dark Lord."

"Renée, I…" stammered Fudge in an attempt to dispel the tension that now filled the air, "…I am sure that Albus did not mean…"

"I know full vell what he meant Cornelius, thank you," Valjean cut him off.

"But," Fudge foundered, searching for the words, "surely you can understand his," he shot Dumbledore a sideways glance as the Professor looked at him, "that is, our concerns," he sighed and shook his head, "If France were to publicly side with the Dark Lord in any way…even the implication would…"

"France will never take his side, Cornelius, nor will any Frenchman while I am in a position to prevent it. Nevertheless," Valjean breathed and seemed to rein in his temper a touch, "we live in a democracy. There are those in the Adjutaire that do not share my view of the situation. The plain truth," he emphasised the words, "is that, the more hopeless your situation becomes, the louder their voices will grow," he smiled and spread his arms wide in an exasperated gesture, "So, you see what I am up against. Between those who wish to fight, those who wish to abstain and those who would argue for…other options," his eyes darted to Dumbledore for a moment, "the French government is in no position to aid you."

Fudge nodded, seeming to accept defeat in this argument. The traces of tension that Etean had noticed earlier seemed to become more pronounced. As the Minister reached for his teacup, there was even a hint of a tremble in his fingers. Then he raised his head and his eyes widened when he saw Etean. It was as if he had only just remembered that he was there at all.

"Lord Etean," he said, snapping the silence in half, "Might I ask what your opinion is concerning French involvement in the war?"

Into the lion's den!

Three sets of eyes turned to Etean, each waiting for his answer. Etean looked at each of them in turn. Fudge was grasping now, desperate to undo whatever damage he thought Dumbledore had just done. Dumbledore himself was harder to read, his insult of Valjean had been directed and precise. His intent was unclear, but now he seemed unsure of what to expect. Valjean had the look of a predator. He was eyeing Etean with cautious hostility, knowing that Etean knew a hell of a lot more than he was supposed to know and wondering if he would say something he wasn't supposed to say.

Etean cleared his throat and settled his mind, planning out what his response. "My opinion," he began, "such as it is, is based on second or third hand information concerning the state of affairs, both in England and in France," Fudge seemed to sag slightly, "However, from what I do know," he paused and nodded to Valjean, "Counsellor Valjean is right, France is not ready for war," Valjean smiled in victory – 'Not for long you don't Renée!', "But," Valjean's smile wavered, "if truth be told, I don't think that Counsellor Valjean would ever say that France is ready for war. I don't think any nation can ever truly be _ready_ for war. I do believe however that France is considerably better off than the Counsellor would have you believe."

Valjean stuttered slightly. "Mon Seigneur I…" he said,

"You know as well as I do, Counsellor," Etean cut him off, "That the dissention amongst the Committee members concerning the war is in no way interfering with the defence preparations."

"How…" Valjean started.

Etean stared at him. "I signed the budget oversight if you recall," he waved a dismissive hand, as Valjean's jaw tensed, "None of the Committee members want to surrender, nor are they stupid enough to take Voldemort's side, but, they are politicians, and so they're posturing, playing for position. France is in no immediate danger, so they are content to rattle their political sabres, bandying hollow threats and empty arguments. When the real threat presents itself though, you and I both know that they will unite to face it," Etean folded his arms across his chest, "So, let us suppose that it happens, suppose Voldemort wins this war in England and suppose that France becomes his next target," Etean didn't give Valjean a chance to comment, "Now, suppose he sent his Death Eaters to attack the Adjutaire building…with the Committee inside…"

"The Etyar would stop them," said Valjean confidently, pointing a finger at the door.

Etean smiled and nodded. "True, the Etyar would hold firm against such an attack to the last man, and of course, the Auror corps would be mobilised to assist them."

"Of course."

"Yes, only," Etean frowned, "what if they couldn't?"

"What do you mean?" said Valjean confused, "What could stop them?"

"Well let's see…" Etean pursed his lips in contemplation, "How about a five hundred strong army of Dememtors? Suppose they just happened to choose that moment to cross the English Channel and mount an assault in Calais? Or," he enjoyed letting his mind ramble, "what if two dozen angry giants were delivered via portkey into the heart of Paris and started tearing up the Champs Elesee? Or perhaps a hunting pack of vampires apparating into Marseille and having a rare old time slaughtering all around them? Would the Aurors be able to cope with any of those AND assist the Etyar in defending the Adjutaire?"

Valjean nodded hastily, not entirely on certain footing now. "Our Aurors are the best in the world. I believe that they would be able to defend against any of those scenarios, yes."

Etean saw Dumbledore smile as the Professor recognised where he was going with this. "What about all of them?"

Valjean was taken aback. His eyes shone with amazement. "All of them? At the same time?" he stammered and shook his head, "Such a thing could never happen."

"Why not, Renée?" asked Dumbledore, "We have seen from his assault on Coventry that he can co-ordinate just such an attack," he turned to Etean and nodded, "To presume that he couldn't perform the same feat twice would be short sighted. Dementors, trolls, giants, and vampires have all rallied to his banner, and perhaps that is not all. There is no telling the full extent of his forces until he chooses to reveal them."

"Yes but," Valjean stuttered, "such an attack…"

"Would require no more than careful planning and preparation," said Etean, "Two things that Voldemort is more than skilled at."

Valjean shook his head. "But, Albus, be realistic. Assaulting a city is one thing, but for him to muster and control such a force as would be needed for full scale invasion of our nation is inconceivable."

"That is a word that I have heard often, Renée," Dumbledore's calm voice had become the rock on which the conversation now stood, "though as yet, never accurately. If Voldemort is victorious in England, he will have secured a base of operations, a safe haven from where he can launch a wider war. Far from his needing to control them, the beings that serve him, dementors, vampires, trolls, giants, hags, goblins would gladly serve him willingly as they relished in their new found freedom from persecution. Once he has gathered his strength and forged his army he will strike, and he will strike hard Counsellor, very hard." Dumbledore paused to allow his words time to sink in.

"Can France ever be ready for a war like that Renée?" Fudge asked quietly.

Valjean didn't answer right away, he merely shook his head and stared at Etean. "No," he said finally with a heavy sigh, "I don't believe that it can."

"Then help us now," Dumbledore stood and stepped forward, "Now, when he is vulnerable, now, when he must still exercise caution and restraint for fear of overextending himself, now, when we have this one chance to beat him. Let us both stand together and stop him once and for all, before he gets the kind of power that would make this war un-winnable for either of us."

"Please, Albus," Valjean lifted his head and looked at Dumbledore, "Let us speak no more of this. As I said, I am not authorised to speak for France here today. But, rest assured that I have heard all that you have said today, and that I will not dismiss your plight out of hand. Your words will be made known to my government, for what good they will do," he sighed, and then looked to Etean, "Perhaps, knowing that Seigneur d'Etean himself supports an alliance may be enough to sway some of the doubters." Etean saw the warning flash in Valjean's eyes and stayed any further comment.

Dumbledore clasped Valjean's shoulder. "Thank you, Renée," Dumbledore beamed, "that is a start."

"Indeed," Fudge got to his feet, blustering slightly, "and a good start it is, but," he made a point of looking at the ornate clock over the fireplace, "it will have to be all for today," he stared for a moment at Dumbledore, "We should really be getting down to the hall, the ceremony is about to begin."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. Fudge turned and opened his mouth to speak to Valjean, who was staring pointedly at the fire, but Valjean spoke before him. "Minister," he said suddenly, as though waking from a dream, "I wonder if I might have a moment alone with Seigneur d'Etean."

Fudge frowned. His eyes darted back and forth for a moment. "Why," he said, "certainly, Counsellor, by all…"

"Alone if you don't mind," Valjean intoned in a sombre voice.

Fudge looked at Etean, who returned his gaze without reaction. After a moment, he nodded his assent. This was odd. He had expected Valjean to draw him aside at some point, but not in such a brazen manner. Etean's father had always taught him that politics was a game of subtlety, a delicate art of persuasion and bluff. Renée Valjean was a master of that game, but today, for reasons that Etean couldn't fathom, he was playing by a different set of rules. The only question was: What game was he playing?

With only a modest level of hesitation, Fudge and Dumbledore withdrew, silently closing the door behind them. Etean and Valjean remained in silence for several moments, long enough to hear them open and close the outer door and move out of earshot. Valjean spent this time staring at the fireplace. All trace of defeat left him. His shoulders straightened and his breathing settled. He made no attempt to secure the room further. Did he really believe that there were no eavesdropping charms in here? Etean watched him carefully for a moment more, he really didn't care. He spent these quiet moments staring at Valjean, watching the shifting pattern of his thoughts. His annoyance was bubbling beneath the surface, practically begging to be pushed. Etean ran his finger over his cheek, the bruise should be visible by now.

"You do know that Dumbledore was trying to get a rise from you?" Etean said quietly when he felt that the silence had endured long enough, "He wanted to see how well you played the game," he added with a smirk.

Valjean was silent for a moment, and then he swore loudly. "Bah, Englishmen," he said in a quieter voice, "the arrogance of them. They truly believe that theirs is the only valid position in this war."

"They believe that they are the only ones currently _fighting_ this war," Etean corrected him, "and they believe that, should they lose, they will be the first, but not the last to die. Are they wrong, Renée?"

Valjean turned. "Don't you presume to preach that nonsense to me, my lord," he said harshly, "I am far more aware of the reality of thiz war than you are."

Etean raised an eyebrow. "Is that a fact?"

"It iz," Valjean spat, "as is evidenced by your presence here today," he shook his head, "Tell me, just vhat did you think you were doing getting yourself involved in this?"

'Time to play dumb,' Etean mewed to himself. "I didn't _get_ involved with anything, Renée, I was merely doing Albus Dumbledore a favour…he is my headmaster and all that," he finished with a grin.

Valjean glared at him. "How can you have been raised in the very cradle of French politics and yet be so naive?" Valjean sighed, "I am glad that Lord Robert is not here to see this. He would spin in hiz grave to see his son so easily manipulated."

'Manipulated?' Etean took a breath, and then smiled. "Thank you, Renée," he said sarcastically, "You're enduring respect for my father is heart-warming. Family is the cornerstone of civilisation after all, is it not?" he finished.

Valjean glared at him for a long moment. "Family…and loyalty to ones country, my lord."

'Loyalty to the state' was an argument that Etean had heard many times, and he was in no mood to hear it again. "Of course," Etean nodded, "of course. Now," he brightened, "There was some mention of business that you wished us to complete. I presume that you have something for me to sign?"

Valjean nodded. "Indeed I do, my lord." He reached inside his robes and drew out a silver document tube. Etean followed Valjean to the Minister's desk and waited as Valjean unrolled several scrolls and laid them out on the table. Etean stepped forward and scanned the pages, four identical copies of the same document – Poliakov's treaty. He took in the multi-lingual title on the central one:

'_Traité__ de la défense commune_'

'_Vertrag__ der allgemeinen Verteidigung_'

'_Tratado__ de la defensa común_'

'_Treaty of Common Defence_'

He sighed, not bothering to read the text. This had been coming for a long time, and he knew it was necessary in 'the grand scheme of things,' but now that he was here, looking at it, it felt wrong. "Have all of the amendments that I requested been made?"

"They have," Valjean said, pointing to a couple of paragraphs in turn, "The amendments were made to paragraphs two and seven. Would you care to examine them?"

That was what he should do, that was what Valjean expected him to do, but that was not what Etean was about to do. "No…I am confident that this document would not be here for me to sign if it had not satisfied my representatives in Geneva," he gestured vaguely to the document, "Tell me where," he said.

Valjean pointed to the bottom of the documents. "Here…and here."

Etean hesitated for a moment. "I wonder what Minister Fudge would say if he knew what was being signed on his desk?" he said with a smile.

"No doubt he would not be amused," Valjean said dryly.

Etean still paused. "This," he pointed to the parchment, "condemns them, you do know that?"

Valjean took a breath and rolled his jaw in annoyance. "This treaty safeguards France, my lord," he said emphatically, "I know _that!_"

"Yes," Etean answered, pressing his ring down and signing the treaty, "I am certain that you do. When does it become public?"

"As soon as I can get these to Paris," Valjean answered, "Probably no later than tomorrow afternoon."

Etean shook his head and repeated his signature three further times, signing all four copies of the treaty and then stepped back, fighting down a sudden urge to smash something. Valjean took up three of the copies and rolled them together into his tube, the fourth, he wrapped separately and secured with a knob of wax before handing it to Etean. Etean accepted it without a word and stowed it away inside his robes.

Valjean inspected the clock. "I believe that the ceremony is due to start soon, my lord," he said casually, "We had best be getting along."

Etean didn't comment. Instead he turned and headed to the door. His robes felt heavy. He knew it made no sense, the weight of the parchment was barely noticeable, and yet it felt like a lead ball hanging from his heart. Damn the Old Man and his ideas, damn the council and their plans, damn it all. They weren't here. They weren't the ones that had to carry the weight of peoples' lives in their pockets. They weren't the ones who had to stand and smile, and shake the hands of people, while at the same time shattering all their hope in the name of patriotism. Etean had to force himself not to laugh at the thought.

The outer office was still deserted. Etean passed through it without hesitation. Outside in the corridor he found Minister Fudge waiting for him. He turned from his pacing when he saw Etean emerge.

"Lord Etean," he said brightly, "Everything is OK?"

Etean nodded. "It is."

"Your business is concluded?" he asked inquisitively.

"It is," Etean responded.

Fudge nodded and then checked his pocket-watch. "I decided to remain here," he said, turning to face Valjean as he emerged behind Etean, "So that I could escort you to the hall at your convenience."

"Splendid, Cornelius," Valjean piped.

Etean suddenly had no desire to remain near the man for another moment. He looked at Fudge, remembering the parchment in his pocket. They should know, they deserved to know.

"Actually Minister," Etean said, "I wonder if there is anywhere that I might freshen up before the ceremony."

Fudge inclined his head in thought. "Why…certainly," he said. He raised his hand and beckoned to the Auror sentry from his post, "Roger here will show you the way."

"Thank you." Etean smiled. He caught the eye of the visible Etyar and signalled him to remain on station while at the same time, gesturing almost casually to his partner to follow him. The invisible Etyar stepped silently into position behind him.

"This way, my lord," the Auror, Roger, said. If he minded being reduced to a guide, he didn't show it.

Etean followed him along the corridor taking a different route than he had earlier. The destination was the same though. They reached the main corridor and turned to head deeper into the building. Roger led him in silence through the growing crowd to a side corridor. Its entrance was hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain. Roger nodded to the guard on station and then smartly drew it back. "Any of the conveniences are at your disposal, my lord."

"Thank you," Etean said and stepped inside. He moved a ways down the passage, past several empty bathrooms before he chose one and entered. Inside, he felt the Etyar draw level with him and he turned round.

'Etyar!' he sent.

'My lord,' the response came almost instantly. 'What is your command?'

Etean held his robes open, revealing the document within. 'Take this,' he ordered. The document vanished as the guard slipped it into his possession. 'At the next discreet opportunity,' he sent to the guard as he straightened his robes, 'I want you to personally see to it that Albus Dumbledore gets this. No one is to know that he has it, but he is to know that it came from me, do you understand?'

'I understand,' was the reply.

'Good, now go!'

The Etyar stepped past Etean and left the bathroom. The door of the bathroom clicked shut with barely a sound. The entire conversation with the guard had taken less than three seconds, quick enough not to be noticed by anyone. Etean passed his hand over the lock briefly, securing it against any interested listeners. His fingers tingled as the spells formed and leapt out into the wood. Now that he was alone and in private, Etean swore at the top of his lungs. He marched to the solid gold sink and filled it with icy cold water from one of the half dozen taps. The water stung his face as he doused it with handful after handful for a full thirty seconds before lifting his head and staring at his own reflection. A deep ache had settled into his jaw. Ginny's blow had been staggeringly hard, surprising considering her stature. She really knew how to throw a punch. Now that he had the chance to think, he wondered precisely what it was he had done to deserve that. He shook his head, whatever it was it was bound to make little sense. Scowling, he narrowed his mind to focus his body's healing abilities and watched the rudiments of a bruise fade to nothing.

Etean's eyes closed and he pressed his head into the mirror. 'What a day! First I get insane teachers, dragons, and wounded hippogriffs, then I'm faced with wand happy Aurors and now I have to deal with scheming politicians and an irate Gryffindor? Is there any way that this can get worse?' He instantly regretted asking that question. Something told him that this wouldn't be the low point. His mind conjured up a picture of the state of things now, and it wasn't a pretty sight. Now that the treaty was signed, things were about to go from bad to worse. Forging some form of bargain with Renée Valjean had offered Fudge hope, it offered Dumbledore hope, hell it offered the whole fucking country hope. Etean sighed, that hope was now about to be dashed. How had it come to this?

He doused his face again and leaned on the sink, watching his face wobble on the surface of the water. Too fast…things were moving too fast. Even the most drastic pre-war projections he'd seen had the Ministry holding itself together for a lot longer than this. How had things gone this far this fast? Were the Aurors that incompetent or were the Death Eaters that good?

His train of thought was interrupted suddenly when his ring tingled. Etean's expression darkened. He knew he shouldn't have asked the question. Here was another problem. Only one person could have sent that signal. He reached down to disturb the water. "Duncan," he said coolly.

The water danced and shimmered for a moment, and then settled with a familiar, if not currently welcome, face reflected back at him in place of his own. Duncan bowed his head, giving Etean a brief view of his greying, black hair. "My Lord," he said in a sombre tone, "how may I be of service?"

Etean bit back the answer he wanted to give, this wasn't the time for that. "That depends; where are you?"

"In London, my lord, as ordered. I came as soon as I received your message."

"Good," Etean had expected no less, "Your movements were not detected?"

"No, my lord, I am certain of that," he frowned, "I was careful, yet expedient. Your message conveyed a degree of urgency, sir, do you require my presence? I am not far from your current location and could be at your side in…"

"That won't be necessary," Etean shook his head, "We will talk later this evening. For now, you are to travel to the Leaky Cauldron and reserve the usual room in my name…"

"Your name, my lord? But…"

"My name, Duncan, as I said," Etean wasn't able to keep the anger from his voice completely, "Hire the room and wait for me there, is that understood?"

There was a momentary hesitation. "Yes, my lord, it shall be done."

"See that it is. And Duncan…" Etean called.

"My lord?"

"I want you to understand something, until we speak again, you are to maintain Condition Grey, is that clear?"

"Condition Grey, my lord?"

The image of the Death Eaters' silent observation of him flashed across Etean's mind again, along with several rather unpleasant explanations for it. "Yes, Condition Grey!"

"I will obey, my lord."

Duncan's image faded. 'Questions. Why did they always have to ask so many questions?' Etean turned his back and sat on the sink, stroking his cheek in contemplation. He reached into his robes and drew out the small green bottle that had caused him such a headache. Duncan had some explaining to do and, Etean's fist closed around the bottle, he had better do a damned good job of it for his sake.

There was a quiet rap on the door. Etean frowned and, stuffing the bottle into his cloak once more, he stood up and straightened his robes, setting them right with a snap of his fingers. He opened the door to find Ginny standing before him looking stern. Instinctively, he tensed. "Yes?" he asked.

Ginny scowled. "They sent me to get you," she said in a sullen voice, "Come on."

She turned on a heel and marched off. Etean paused to rub his cheek again and then followed her.

Most of the crowd had left the corridor when they passed once more through the curtain. Ginny walked off down the corridor without a word. At the far end, Etean saw a large doorway flanked by ushers. Ginny had a lead on him, but he outpaced her as he walked so that they reached the entrance together. One of the ushers greeted them and offered to take them to their seats. Ginny looked at him and then scoffed, raised her chin and moved off, leaving Etean to keep up the rear.

The hall that had been prepared to house the ceremony was a large, semi-circular theatre with a sloping floor and ceiling. As befit the solemnity of the occasion, the décor that had been chosen was clean and plain while at the same time, poetically elegant. Rows of heavy, satin covered silver chairs lined the floor of the hall, framing a central aisle. The walls were lined with silk banners, all of them deep blue with the tiniest silver trim. A single white Flower of Merlin was pinned to the centre of each banner. At last, Etean could identify the scent in the air. The Merlin Blossom was amongst the rarest and most expensive flowers in existence. It seemed to oddly fit the occasion, wasn't life itself just as precious? At the focal point of the room stood the memorial that they had all gathered here to dedicate. It consisted of rows and rose of pearl-white candles, blazing with magically enhanced light. He would have called it beautiful were it not a memorial of death.

As he followed the usher down the slightly sloping floor, Etean scanned the crowd. Once again, something struck him as odd. The makeup of the crowd was off, something about it was just wrong. Etean was halfway to the front when it hit him, the Ministry.

A large number of people in the room were Aurors. Etean recognised their bearing, slightly militaristic and aggressive. Their eyes moved around the room, searching for potential threats. Many of them appeared to be haggard and drawn; their shoulders slumped ever so slightly as they stood in place before their assigned seats. Etean casually put them aside for the moment and focussed on the others. Reading people at a glance was a skill he had practiced and honed over the years, and it stood to him now. He saw file clerks, secretaries, department officers and other civil servants. What he didn't see were shopkeepers, housewives, doctors, businessmen or, in fact, any civilians whatsoever. It seemed that the entire gathering was made up of Ministry staff. The ordinary wizarding population had suffered as much as, if not more than the government, so where were they? Surely they had been invited, surely they had as much reason to be here as anyone else. Etean looked around. Were they all afraid to travel? Was their faith in their government that flimsy?

With a slight scowl, Etean pulled his thoughts to more immediate matters. He looked around again, this time seeking familiar faces. He saw Minister Fudge and Valjean standing in the front row next to Professor McGonagall. Fudge was looking around furtively. The stress of this day, coupled with the less than successful meeting earlier seemed to have taken a toll on the Minister. Etean could see sweat beading on his forehead even at this distance.

Their guide halted and gestured toward a row of seats. Etean turned to see Ron, Harry and the entire Hogwarts delegation. Ginny stepped into the row. Etean moved to follow her but a cough from the usher stopped him.

"Yes?" he asked.

"My Lord, a seat has been prepared for you at the front," the boy gestured for Etean to move onward. Etean hesitated, the very thought of being near Valjean aggravated him. He looked briefly at Ginny, who was making a pointed attempt to ignore him.

He turned back to the usher. "I think that my place is here," he said and turned to stand in front of the aisle seat. The usher coughed nervously. Etean turned back to him. "Is there a problem?" he asked sternly.

The boy cleared his throat. "No, my lord, of course not," he nodded and disappeared.

Etean moved in, causing the others to shift along and accommodate him. He heard Ginny harrumph beside him but she made no real comment. Etean shook his head and focussed his attention the memorial display. Each of the foot tall candles burned with equal intensity. At the base of each one sat a small, velvet pillow on which there rested a delicate, golden medal – the Order of Merlin, First Class! Fittingly, the platform was bedecked in the white petals of the Flower of Merlin. Given the occasion, Etean should have expected no less but it still surprised him. He had never seen so many of those flowers in one place before. 'The Ministry is putting on a show,' he thought to himself. Beside him, Ginny made to sit down. Etean reached out and tugged on her arm slightly to stop her. He turned his head and gave it the merest shake.

Ginny looked up at him and frowned. "What?" she hissed between her teeth.

"We are supposed to stand," Etean answered, bringing his mouth down to almost brush her ear.

Ginny turned her head to look at him. "Then why are there chairs?"

"It's a mark of respect," he turned to the platform, to the candles, "for them."

"How the hell do you know?"

'Because I just bloody know!' Etean sighed. "Look around you, do you see anyone else sitting?"

Ginny looked around and saw that in fact, nobody was sitting down anywhere in the hall. "Oh," she grunted and folded her arms across her chest. Etean looked up to see Ron looking at him. The taller boy merely shrugged and shook his head at Etean's quizzical look, apparently he was none the wiser as to the reason for Ginny's anger.

There was a hush as a quiet bell tolled behind them. The doors at the rear of the room were drawn closed and all light other than the candle memorial faded away. In the eerie darkness, every sound, from the shuffling of feet to the inevitable quiet cough, was amplified and seemed to fill the room.

Marked by a slight chiming sound, a low spotlight flared into existence, illuminating a wizard in black robes. The man stood at attention at the centre of the candle display and unrolled the large scroll that he was holding in his hand.

Without introduction or preamble, he started speaking. "Today," he said in a schooled, professional voice, "The Minister of Magic has directed that the Order of Merlin, First Class be awarded to the following, in recognition of their service to the Ministry above and beyond their bonds of duty…Eric Anderson, in absentia…Carolin Ashdown, in absentia…"

Etean listened as the man spoke. The list went on, name after name was spoken and medal after medal was conferred, all of them 'in absentia'. It was a good thing that Etean already knew the names, because he found himself unable to pay them the attention they deserved. All he heard was the comment, in absentia – not present. None of them were here to receive the honour they had earned. In absentia! – Nothing more than the polite way of saying 'dead'.

The list continued, "…Derek Morgan, in absentia…Alex O' Reilly, in absentia…"

Etean felt, with mild surprise, Ginny slipping her hand into his. For the moment, he forgot that she was apparently furious with him for some reason. The list was progressing in alphabetical order, and soon they got to, "…Percy Weasley, in absentia…"

Ginny squeezed his fingers. Etean looked at her and squeezed back, showing her that he was there. He felt a shudder run through her and she lowered her head. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "No, focus on Percy's candle, he'll help you."

Ginny sniffed. "I don't know which one is his."

"It doesn't matter," Etean squeezed her hand again, "Just pick on and focus on it." Etean watched her eyes move along the platform. She chose one of the twinkling lights and stared at it. A single tear dropped from her eye and ran down her cheek. Etean leaned over and kissed her gently on the temple.

At last, with, "…Stephen Webster, in absentia…" the list of names ended and the Ministry official vanished. The light rose just a touch as Minister Fudge puffed up and stepped out to take the place that he had just vacated.

Fudge waited for a moment before he spoke. "We are at war," his voice resounded throughout the hall, the words settling on the crowd like lead, "A terrible thing…war. When I hear that word it conjures up many emotions, fear, sorrow and anxiety, to name a small few. I walk in the streets each day and see my own worry and fear echoed back to me wherever I go and I know that I am not alone in feeling these things, none of us are alone. Each day I smile and nod and tell people not to worry…that all they need do is to have trust in their government to take good care of them, and everything will be alright. Each day they hear my words and take comfort in them. Each day I leave them and go to work. I do my job to the best of my abilities to ensure that those words of comfort are not empty," he paused and turned to the burning candles behind him, "These people, these brave men and women did their duty too and for that we honour them: sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers who gave their lives doing their duty. They placed themselves in harms way and they paid the price," the minister turned back to face his audience, "And now the burden is ours because we must go on. That is why I get up each day and do my job. That is why I know that I can never give up, that none of us can give up." From the sound of his voice, Etean got the impression that he was trying to sound confident and to impress his confidence on those before him, but he didn't manage it. Etean could sense the emotions of those around him, and they weren't confident at all.

That was the end of the Minister's speech, and the end of the ceremony. At some coded gesture, the lights in the room were raised to their previous level and the doors behind the crowd were drawn open. The crowd started to break up and bustle about. Many began to make their way out of the hall while others moved forward toward the memorial. Ginny released Etean's hand. He turned to see her wiping at the tears on her cheeks.

"You OK?" he whispered to her.

Ginny sniffed. "Yes," she said without looking at him.

Behind her, Ron reached out and tapped her shoulder. When she turned round, he nodded toward the front of the room. "Are you coming?"

Etean followed Ron's nod along with Ginny. Standing at the front of the hall by the memorial stood a knot of red heads. Arthur Weasley had been released from his duties above and now stood with his arm around his sobbing wife who was gently stroking a random candle. Surrounding them, the other Weasleys were huddled in silence.

Etean turned back to Ginny. "Go on," he said, stepping back to allow them pass.

Ginny silently slid past him, followed by Ron. She glanced back in his direction once as her brother led her forward. Etean waited until she had joined her family and was being crushed by her mothers tear filled embrace before he turned to leave. His eyes locked with Valjean's for a moment. The Counsellor stared blankly at him before returning to his conversation with Fudge. Etean fought off a scowl and turned on his heel. The crowd behind him had thinned considerably and he had no difficulty making his way back up the aisle. He was passing through the doors when a slightly out of breath Neville Longbottom drew alongside him and called his name.

"Hrm?" Etean responded.

"I…just wanted to ask," Neville said between breaths, "how your hippogriff was."

"Oh," Etean said, "Well he made it here in one piece, and they told me that they were going to keep an eye on him," Etean paused, "I suppose I should check on him." He looked around for an official, someone who could show him the way to the surface. Navigating the Ministry headquarters with all the new security might prove to be an interesting exercise, he imagined, but it would perhaps be best left for another day. His eyes scanned the corridor, it was all but deserted. Wherever the crowd had gone off to, they had gone fast. Etean's eyes narrowed, a couple of Aurors were still at their posts, though there seemed to be less of them than before. This wasn't right. Etean felt his mind start to tingle.

Neville was still talking, "…so I just wanted to apologise."

Etean frowned at him. "What?"

"For getting sick in your carriage," Neville blushed, "Like I said, it was just the shock and all…I'll pay for the cleaning…"

"What? Oh," Etean's mind filled in the blank for him, "oh…don't worry about it," he smiled, "Just chalk it up to Snape's piloting skills, or lack thereof. He nearly made me vomit for Merlin's sake."

Neville sniggered. "Yeah, it was a rough ride."

"It was." Etean tuned Neville out. His eyes roamed the corridor again, and settled on one of the windows beside the doors to the hall. Like the rest, this offered a view of the London skyline. Outside, Etean could see a warm, clear autumn sky, complete with orange sunlight diffused through hazy clouds making the whole city appear to glow. He squinted at it, that was not the sky outside, he was sure of that. Then he remembered that he was underground. The windows had to be fake, enchanted to show a false image of an idyllic scene. Etean paused when he saw a momentary shimmer run through the window.

"Neville?" he said to interrupt the other boys rambling litany of Snape's various flaws.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of Murphy's Law?"

Neville frowned. "No…I don't think so, what is it?"

"It's a muggle expression I heard once, it states that whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and normally at the worst possible time."

Neville giggled. "That's a silly thing to say."

"Maybe," Etean took a step forward, "but you'd be surprised how often it rings true." 'Like now!'

Etean focussed his senses on the window. It's glow was an inferno compared to the others and was getting brighter.

Neville seemed to pick up on his tension. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure," Etean answered honestly, "But," he added as the Etyar emerged from the hall and stood to attention. Moments later, Minister Fudge led Renée Valjean out, the three men stood alone, less than five feet from the window, "answer me this, what is the worst thing that could possibly happen today?"

Neville's answer, if he gave one, was ignored. The window flared bright. Etean saw the Etyar move as he too felt the danger, but it was too late. There was a flash, followed by a moment of terrible silence, and then a deafening roar filled the corridor as the window exploded. Etean saw the blast in slow motion as his instincts took over and time slowed. The ball of fire slowly expanding from the focal point of the blast was almost beautiful to look at, but he didn't get the chance to admire it for long. With a stunning force, the ethereal shockwave preceding the blast hit him, rattling him to his very bones. His concentration shattered in an instant and his hold on time vanished. He didn't even get the chance to brace himself before the full brunt of the blast hit him in the chest and knocked the wind out of him. Chaos! The world didn't make sense anymore, the air burned like fire, up suddenly became down, and the floor wasn't the floor anymore. The roar had deafened him and the flash had blinded him, he couldn't see or hear anything around him. Etean staggered backward, fighting for air. A crushing weight slammed into him and he collapsed into darkness.


	51. Confusion and Blood

_A/N: Ok folks - note at the start here. This chapter is not for the faint hearted...simply put, not everyone who is alive at the start survives to the end. Just a lil warning._

Hermione stared down at the shimmering surface of the potion in the cauldron. It was stone cold now, but it still bubbled and moved as though it were just coming to the boil. Hermione wasn't concerned about its behaviour, though, because it was supposed to do that. At least, she was fairly certain that it was. Concrete information on certain aspects of this potion had been hard to come by. Hell, it didn't even have a name so far as she had learned. The ingredients she was sure of, she'd checked and rechecked them in at least five different books, so that was something. The rest she had had to piece together from the various sources, some of which had been vague, almost to the point of being senseless.

Somewhere deep in her mind, Hermione knew she should be concerned about that. What if it was wrong? What if between it all she'd missed something, or gotten a couple of steps wrong? Potion making is, after all, a precise art, more of a science than a branch of magic. It was all precise measurements and delicate, specific procedures. Even simple potions, if brewed incorrectly, could have terrible consequences, and this was not a simple potion at all. Half of the ingredients were listed as controlled substances, most of them for very good reasons. If she had made a mistake...

Hermione shook her head hard. Thinking like that wasn't going to help. She was committed now, and there was no turning back from this. The memory of the vision threatened to force its way through her efforts to suppress it, but Hermione fought it down. She couldn't go through that again, she just couldn't. The mere memory of the image of seeing the top of that mountain explode was more than she could bear.

There was a rustle of cloth from behind her. Hermione turned to look over her shoulder at the bed. Draco was lying on his back now, stretched out full length with his head resting on the pillow and his eyes closed. He looked for all the world like he was asleep, but he wasn't. Hermione wasn't sure how, but she knew that he was just pretending. She smiled faintly as she looked at his face. Maybe, maybe just by doing that, projecting the aura of being calm and peaceful, he thought he was helping her in some way. He was scared though…and his act couldn't hide it. She didn't blame him, not really. She had just told him that he was going to die violently after all. Anyone hearing that would be worried to say the least.

The smile faded from her face as the emotions inside her swelled up again. She didn't need to see the images, they were bad enough, but the feelings that went with them were what truly threatened to overwhelm her. Her dreams had meaning now. The panic and urgent desperation she had felt every time she had chased Lupie down that corridor now had a form. The chase through the tunnel under the mountain was her failure, her failure to keep a promise. It was her arrogance, and hers alone, that would cost Draco his life.

That was the worst thing about it, the part she hadn't told Draco. There was no way she could explain why, even to herself, but she knew it was her fault. As the images had played out before her, she had just known beyond any doubt, that she was the reason that he was there at all, and the only reason he was going to die.

The vision played again. She could see the top of the mountain disintegrating in a blinding flash. She could see ripples of white fire streak the sky and the debris being hurled aloft to rain down on the mountainside. She remembered the crushing weight of her failure slamming down on her even before the sound of the blast had reached her ears. It was over, it was all over. There was no future from left after that, no hope for tomorrow. White fire and burning death, that's how it would end. That fire would burn itself out before long, leaving the lives it had destroyed utterly wasted, shattered beyond recognition. And it was all her fault!

Hermione jumped as Draco's arms slipped gently around her waist. He lowered his head to bring his lips to her ear. "Don't cry," he whispered, "it was only a dream."

Hermione realised that her cheeks were wet from tears she didn't recall shedding. 'It was only a dream!' She had lost count of how often he'd said that to her, it was rhetoric now, but, somehow, it helped. She leaned her head back against him and raised her hand to wipe them away. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

Draco gave her a squeeze and chuckled. "Don't be," he said, "It isn't your fault."

'Yes it is!' the thought rocked her.

Draco nuzzled Hermione's neck for a moment longer, and then she felt him nod downward toward the potion. "Is it ready?" he asked, his tone becoming grave once more.

She nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "Yes," she all but whispered, "I think it is."

"Well then," Draco rubbed her sides slowly, "I guess its time."

"I guess it is." Hermione's eyes settled on the intricate goblet sitting on the preparation table nearby, just out of reach. She shivered as she stepped out of Draco's embrace and reached out to pick it up. Her fingers felt numb with a sudden attack of pins and needles. She was getting them a lot lately, a side effect of her exhaustion she assumed. 'Damn it,' she thought, 'not now!'

She couldn't afford to be nervous now. She had to do this, she just had to. Hermione lowered her hand and squeezed her fingers hard to force feeling into them once more.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked.

Hermione turned to see him staring at her intently, standing now on the opposite side of the cauldron. She smiled and nodded. "Yes…just a little…"

"You don't have to do this," Draco cut across her. There was a definite edge to his voice. He was clearly still worried about the potion harming her. Hermione set her jaw. She understood his feelings…if she were to tell the truth, she shared them, but her mind was made up.

Quick as a flash, she reached out and snatched the goblet. Three seconds later and it was full to the brim with thick, deep red liquid. 'Blood!' the word was in her mind before she could stop it. Hermione pushed the thought down as far as she could, but couldn't stop herself from hesitating all the same. She eyed the goblet for a second before raising it to her lips. Her eyes found Draco's, feeling his concern through his steady gaze. She held it for a moment, drawing strength from the knowledge that she wasn't alone.

"Bottoms up," she said with forced cheer, and downed the potion in one.

--------------------

A crushing weight bore down on Etean's chest, pinning him to the floor. The darkness surrounding him was absolute. His heart rate skyrocketed in an instant, sending his blood roaring through his ears. For a moment, that sound, and that of his own, laboured breathing was all he knew. Gradually his panic faded and his heart slowed. Over the noise, he began to hear far off sounds of commotion. The sounds seemed odd to Etean. His mind struggled to figure out what they were. He should recognise them, they should make sense, but they didn't. Etean shook himself and tried to stall his thoughts, just for a moment. His skull felt as though it had been hollowed out with a pumpkin knife. He felt as certain that he just needed a moment to set things right, and then everything would start making sense again. His head was really starting to hurt and a discomforting tingling sensation started to build in his legs. Where was he? What was going on? What the hell was happening to him? Why were those people shouting?

Shouting? It hit him all of a sudden. That's what the noise was. People were shouting, lots of people, and lots of shouting, all around him. He was alone here in the dark, yet he was surrounded by hundreds of panicky screams and wails, that didn't make sense. If he could hear them, shouldn't he see them too? His mind started to buzz again. Etean felt what little grip he had on reality he had managed to regain start to slip away again and he fought to maintain control. The voices…they were real. 'Focus on them,' he heard the words in his head, 'Let the rest come, hold onto what you have.'

Voices? He could hear them all around him. They were there, even though they still didn't sound right. People were talking and they were upset, some of them sounded hurt. Why were they hurt? How bad? Was he hurt too? Was that why things felt so weird?

The buzzing in Etean's head increased as he turned his mind inward and ran a check on his body. Even thinking seemed to hurt, but it all seemed to be working; he could feel his arms and legs, and move them a little. Etean tried to sit up, but his muscles didn't seem to be up to the task. The mysterious weight that was crushing him into the floor prevented any real movement.

Grunting with effort, Etean managed to move his hands around to a position from where he could lift the weight. What was it? He pushed hard and heard a soft moan from somewhere above his ear. Etean froze. His fingers pressed upward and felt bare metal plates through coarse fabric. His mind struggled to put things in their proper place. Nothing was making sense to him. Etean probed with his fingers, and heard a second groan in reaction. Then it hit him; it was a man. The weight he was trying to move was a man's body!

Etean's mind spun round again painfully. Who was it? Where had he come from? How had he come to be crushing him like he was? Etean's fingers probed again at the metal plates. Metal plates…Etean's mind flashed white hot in a surge of adrenaline as the pieces started to fit together. He suddenly remembered where he was, the ceremony…the corridor…the explosion. A lump formed in his throat. Metal plates meant armour, and the only people that had been anywhere near him before the explosion had been…Etyar, an Etyar was lying on top of him, an Etyar that had just saved his life.

The realisation was followed by a sudden instinctive revulsion as hot, cloying liquid hit him in the face. It spattered over his skin, stinging his eyes and dripping into his mouth. He could taste it, and he knew instantly what it was – Blood! The man lying on top of him was bleeding, and very badly it seemed. Etean mustered his strength and heaved the man upward despite the sudden nausea in his gut brought on by the effort. The Etyar emitted several semi lucid groans of complaint as he was inched upward none too gently, but there was little Etean could do about that. With a final shove, he lifted the man clear and rolled him to the side as easily as he could. Air rushed into his lungs again and, for a moment, he just lay there, panting hard.

As the darkness lifted, the light shone bright in his eyes and he was blind. The pain in his eyes carried back inward through his skull and blossomed into an inferno behind his left ear. Etean blinked rapidly, forcing down the wave of nausea and dizziness that threatened to overcome him. Something was wrong. The world still didn't sound right, and, as his vision slowly cleared, he realised it didn't look right either. Etean tried to figure it out, but it did no good. The pain in his head wasn't the problem; he'd had headaches before…this was something else. He blinked again and stared around him. Dust hung in the air. He could taste it when he inhaled, just as he could smell the smoke that surrounded him. Those senses seemed fine, but the others weren't. He couldn't put his finger on it, but nothing seemed to look right. The world was a flat, grey haze. Etean let his head slump back onto the floor as covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, seeking darkness to calm his mind.

The answer came to him suddenly, silence! Despite the chaotic cries that still filled the corridor, it all seemed deafeningly quiet to him somehow. He opened his eyes and looked in confusion at his hand. It took him a second to bring it to focus, and when he did, it looked…weird. Etean couldn't figure out precisely why, but the world felt like a very alien place right now. He was still staring at his hand when he remembered his saviour lying beside him.

Sitting up, Etean felt the world slide around him. His stomach and head screamed at him to lie back down again, but he didn't listen. Forcing himself not to give in to the nausea, he turned and rolled himself onto his knees. That's when he saw him. Etean felt his insides lock up in horror as he looked down at the Etyar beside him, and saw the extent of the man's injuries.

A shard of broken glass from the window had buried itself into his throat, shredding his carotid artery by the look of it. A river of crimson blood flowed down over the collar of the guard's breastplate, marking a strong contrast with the burnished silver of his armour. Already, a widening pool of blood was gradually swallowing the dust and debris of the floor beneath him. Etean stared at it in disbelief, fighting down a renewed rebellion from his gullet; there was no time for that.

Setting his jaw in determination, Etean reached down and pressed his fingers into the gash. His eyes fluttered closed and he pictured the wound closing. He felt the tingle in his fingertips as the spells began to form. Urged on by his mind, they grew stronger and started to take shape, but then, just as Etean was about to vocalise the incantation, a sudden viscous explosion of pain erupted in the very core of his mind, shattering his concentration.

A surge of nausea rose up inside him, causing him to wretch and fall forward. He just barely managed to catch himself before he landed flat on his face. Beside him, Etyar coughed hard. Bleeding even more profusely with the effort, he reached out toward Etean. Etean blinked and shook his head, trying to clear it once more. Etyar's fingers grasped in vain at his sleeve. Etean frowned. He didn't know what the man was attempting to do, his actions made no sense.

Seeing the blood running more freely now from the gash in Etyar's neck, Etean felt his mind snap into focus. He reached out and, pushing all hope of using magic to heal the guard's wound aside, he pressed his fingers against his neck in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. Etean knew that it was already too late, however. The severity of the wound was all too clear.

To make matters worse, as if that were possible, a slight gurgling sound from deep in the Etyar's throat told Etean that the glass had also punctured his windpipe. He was still breathing, but only just. Etean's grip closed around the wound still harder, but seemed to achieve little. With every beat of his heart, more of the guard's lifeblood gushed out of him. No matter how Etean tried, blood continued to pour unabated through the gaps between his fingers.

Etean's mind raced. What should he do? What could he do? He wasn't helpless, he shouldn't be. There had to be something he could do, if he could only buy enough time, keep Etyar from slipping away until more help could arrive, then maybe… Etean's mind scrambled, searching for options, but none came. The shard was buried too deep, probably snagged on bone and tendon. Pulling it out wasn't an option. There were no options! There was too much bleeding, too much blood already lost. Etean knew it, he didn't want to believe it, but he knew it…this man was going to die.

There was a louder gurgling sound. Etyar's throat moved as he tried to speak.

"Don't," Etean's voice croaked as he spoke. "Don't try to talk…just," he struggled for words, "just lie still."

Etyar coughed hard, spraying blood into his visor. He raised his left arm shakily and began fumbling at the jaw fastening, trying to free his helmet. Etean found himself watching and he knew that it was a hopeless effort. Caked in dust and trembling with pain, his fingers could only poke and tug at it. His eyes searched from behind his mask and found Etean's. One look passed between them and Etean sat bolt upright as he understood. The guard was dying, and he knew it. He couldn't speak, so he was trying to express his final wish in the only way he could. The simplicity of it rocked Etean to the core. This, his last earthly desire, was nothing more than to be allowed to reveal his face.

Etyar never uncovered their faces, not even to their lord, ever. If asked, their typical response was to say that they had no face. It sounded ridiculous, but it was part of who they were. They had no faces, no names, no identities…they were simply Etyar, all of them! It had been that way always. The Etyar's anonymity was as much a part of who they were as their armour was. Only the few that were lucky enough to rise to the rank of captain were granted the privilege of an individual identity once more. For most however, there was only the promise of a quiet retirement, training younger men to take their place. This man would have neither fate. He would have nothing beyond this day.

Etean swallowed against the painful lump in his throat as he took the man's hand and lowered it to his chest. He then gently set about freeing his visor. Slick with the Etyar's blood, Etean's fingers fumbled on the clasps. He silently berated himself for being clumsy and awkward at a time like this. Eventually, the visor was free. Etean removed it as gently as he could and set it down on the floor.

Pale, lean and clean-shaven, he was a soldier, a warrior that had just given his life for his Lord without hesitation. Etyar, he had no other name, hadn't had since the day he set foot in the Etyar barracks. Now, it was the name he would die under.

Yet his face beneath the mask was expressionless even now. Only his eyes were alive, only they showed any expression. But even when facing death, Etean saw in them no fear, no regret, only pride and strength. He would have expected panic, he could understand panic. There would be no shame in it, not now. He wanted to tell Etyar that, and to tell him that there was nothing wrong with being afraid, but the words died on his lips. This man wasn't afraid, he didn't resent his fate, he accepted it. The Etyar lived for their duty, it was all they knew, it was all they were: loyalty and service…until death.

To be an Etyar was to give up your home, your family, your very identity, in service to a man that you may never even meet. Coming face to face with Lord Etean was, to them, the greatest honour they could receive. That was the aspect of the Etyar that no one spoke of, the part of their legend that wasn't the subject of any rumour. Etean remembered being lectured over and over about the Etyar, and the reasons for their existence. He remembered never understanding how someone could vow to give up so much, even their very identity in order to serve another. He remembered his response too, that the Etyar way was an outdated way of life, a relic from a time that had long passed. No one should have to exist to serve another, no one. He remembered shouting that, screaming it at the top of his lungs. That it didn't matter if this was the life they chose for themselves, it was too much. Who the hell was he after all to have the right to deserve that kind of sacrifice?

He was Lord Etean.

The lectures had always ended with that. He was their lord, the reason they existed. The answer hadn't made sense, not then, not ever. It didn't make sense now. How was this man's life worth less than his own? Why should he die so that Etean could live? It was wrong, it was shameful and wrong. This man should not die, not like this, not nameless.

Etyar coughed again. Etean wiped away the blood from his lips. "What is your name?" he asked.

The guard's mouth moved and a stifled croak escaped his lips. His stare intensified. 'Etyar!' he responded telepathically. Etean reeled at the contact; his mind shuddered and rocked so hard that he felt like he was going to pass out.

Wincing, he shook his head to clear it. "No," he whispered. This man had earned the right to be more than that, he had earned his name, "tell me your name," he ordered.

Over his heart, the man's left hand closed to a fist in salute. 'Etyar!' the thought came again with more force than before, rocking Etean's mind to the very core. Etyar continued. 'My…life…for…' he coughed again and his thoughts slipped away. There was a final, diminishing gurgle from Etyar's throat, and then, he was gone. Etean watched as the final spark of life disappeared from his eyes.

A fresh weight bore down on Etean, guilt this time. He felt numb. This man lying before him had died to save his life and he didn't even know his given name. He had never even been aware of the man's presence. Was he the guard he had seen earlier guarding Valjean? Or was he the one that had silently shadowed him to receive new orders? Could he be yet another Etyar, one that Etean hadn't noticed at all?

Etean shook his head; this was pointless. There was no way to tell. 'So stop it!' he ordered himself hard. After a moment's more pathetic inaction, he reached up and closed the Etyar's eyes for him. He could feel that his skin was still slick with blood, that realisation made him nauseas once again. Swearing under his breath, he wiped hard at his face with his sleeve, trying to scrub all traces of the blood away. His eyes settled on the guard's visor. Swallowing, he picked it up, clumsily wiped the blood from it before he set it back in place once more, not bothering to do up the fastenings. Etean sat back, crossed his legs and tried to get his mind to focus on something else, anything else but the swell of pain in his heart.

He found himself fixing on the pain he had just felt at the brief telepathic contact. That was odd, why had it hurt? He couldn't think of an answer; his mind was clouded by pain and confusion. His potion, he needed his potion to calm his addled brain, even for a moment. Automatically, his fingers extended and the thought passed into his mind to conjure it, but the potion never appeared. Instead, Etean was rewarded with a fresh fiery bloom of pain behind his eyes. His fingertips burned with intense, searing pain.

'Damn,' he reeled backward. Deep aches started to settle into his arms and legs, moving upward slowly. Clearly the pain in his head was not without cause. The blast must have done more damage than he realised. Etean rubbed his temple again, that was just something that he would deal with later.

A shadow passed over him. Etean looked up to see the shadowy outline of a man appear out of the haze. The man stooped low, and his face became clear.

"Mr Etean," Professor Snape hissed between his teeth, "What are you doing here? Are you alright?"

Etean stared at him. Aside from the dust that his jet-black robes were catching, he looked totally unscathed by the blast. Snape stared at Etean's face for a moment, and then turned to look over his shoulder. "Medic!" he bellowed. "I need a medic over here."

Movement in the shadows told Etean that someone had Snape's call. He turned his head to see other figures begin to appear, moving toward him. Snape moved as if to stand up to make room for them, but Etean caught his shoulder. "No, Professor," he coughed through his dry throat, "I'm…I'm ok," he coughed again, "I just need a minute here."

"Is that so?" Snape asked, sounding distracted. "Well then, take a minute, but…" he paused, looking down at Etyar for a moment, "but…you should let the medics move you to a safer location." Snape craned his neck and looked around before speaking again, "I have to find the Minister," he rounded on Etean once more, "Do you have any idea where he is?"

Etean blinked, trying to focus his mind enough to take his bearings. He stared at Snape for a moment, and then turned to survey his surroundings.

The corridor was a shambles. The light from the windows was being diffused through the thick smoke rising from the dozens of tiny fires scattered about what had once been the floor. Mixed with the cloud of dust thrown up by the explosion, it cast a ghostly haze throughout the corridor. Through the fog, Etean could see the shadowy shapes of people moving about. He tried out of reflex to focus his senses to help him make sense of everything. The Minister? Where was the Minister?

Mentally, he pictured himself relative to the layout of the corridor. From where he was, from where he had been, the Minister should be… "Over there," he pointed vaguely in the direction of the blast, "He was…by the window."

Snape nodded and stood up, but not before ensuring that one of the medics he had summoned had taken over his position. The young nurse dropped to her knees in front of Etean as Snape spun and disappeared into the fog in a swish of black cloth. Etean watched his shadow fade for a moment, before a blinding light shone in his eyes.

"BAH!" he hissed, swatting the nurse's wand away harshly, "Get that away from me."

"I was just going to examine you," the nurse said, making as though to raise her wand again.

Etean reached out and took hold of her wrist. "Well don't," he told her flatly, "I don't need help."

The rubble behind him moved suddenly. The noise made him start. Etean spun round to see Neville struggling to sit up from under a pile of debris. His face was plastered in dust and dotted with a couple of tiny scratches. From his expression, Etean saw that he was in pain, but the fact that he was awake and moving under his own power was a good sign. He turned back to the nurse, and flicked his head back toward Neville. "Help him," he told her, leaving no doubt that he meant it. The nurse hesitated, but then moved off on her knees toward Neville.

Dark shadows continued to pass before him, briefly revealing themselves to be people, medics mostly. Etean counted over two-dozen of them as they rushed past to help the wounded further down the corridor. Gradually the anguished cries and panicked yells faded, giving way to more structured, ordered utterances, orders for assistance, calls for bandages and the like.

The rubble shifted behind Etean again. He turned to see the nurse that had been treating Neville stand and then help Neville to his feet. He seemed shaky, but not badly hurt, though he paled severely when he caught sight of the Etyar's body.

By the time the nurse had released Neville and turned toward Etean again, he had anticipated her actions and was already getting to his feet. His foot slipped on a loose pebble and he stumbled, but managed to regain his footing unassisted. Etean ignored the nurse's urges to sit down again. Shaking off her steadying hand, he looked over to see Neville still staring intently at Etyar.

"Who…who is that?" he asked, paling even further behind the dust.

"A very brave man," Etean answered simply, deliberately not looking down at the body.

"Is…is he…" Neville looked, wide eyed, at Etean.

"Yes," Etean nodded, "he is."

Neville covered his mouth with his hand and gagged slightly. He managed not to vomit, but Etean wasn't surprised to see him take a step backward. Etean looked down, and felt his stomach churn. Etyar shouldn't be a spectacle like that. Etean knelt down again beside him and unclasped Etyar's cloak from about his neck. He pulled it as gently as he could from beneath the fallen man's body and then laid it over him with what he hoped was reverence.

"Stand aside…STAND ASIDE…" the order rang out in the corridor. Behind Etean, Neville started and nearly toppled over once more as he tried to step hurriedly aside, and out of the way of the dark shape that was approaching from the direction of the blast site. Etean looked round as about a dozen people came into view, all moving as a group, clearly carrying something.

'Someone!' Etean reminded himself as he stood and watched the caravan pass. As the passed him, he caught a brief glimpse of the person that they were carrying and he felt his stomach drop out of him. "Fudge!" he exclaimed.

That was, without a doubt, the Minister they were carrying and, though they were clearly taking great pains to carry him carefully, something about their bearing made him uneasy. They were carrying a wounded man, and were clearly trying to make it look like he was still alive and in need of treatment. That, however, was the problem. If he were a man in need of treatment, they wouldn't need to be deliberately trying to give that impression.

Professor Snape appeared once more behind them. He stopped when he saw Etean.

"Is he…" Etean began.

Snape rounded on him, wide eyed. "Conclusions should not be jumped to, my lord!"

Etean paused, but then nodded his understanding of the unspoken order to 'Shut Up!' Snape returned his nod, and then moved away, following the group of medics just as a second, smaller group appeared, this time carrying Renee Valjean. This group did look the part to Etean. They way they picked their way along and the way they acted on every little movement of their patient, marked a burning contrast to the first group. Etean swallowed, this was bad!

More shapes began to emerge and become people. The swarm of medics that had descended on the scene were starting to move the wounded out. Etean nodded, at least they were organised! Of those that passed by him, Etean recognised none. He found himself categorising them by their injuries. Before he realised that it served no purpose and gave up, he had counted two broken arms, three concussions and seven cases that could only be shock.

One thing he didn't see, and which suddenly occurred to him, was that he hadn't seen Ginny since…since he couldn't remember. He hadn't seen any of the others either, well apart from Neville, who had now wandered off somewhere, but he didn't care about that. In that moment, all he was able to think about was her, and where she was.

He didn't have time to wonder however. "Robert!" Ginny's voice rang out, chiming in Etean's ear. He spun to face the sound as she appeared out of the clearing smoke at a full run and hurled herself at him. Etean staggered back with the force of her impact, but managed to catch his balance and remain upright as he folded his arms around her. He found himself riddled to the core with relief. The pain and confusion in his heart seemed to melt away with the very sight of her. Etean couldn't explain it, but it did, and he was glad for it. He was grateful to her, yet he knew he could never explain why. He didn't really understand why.

Ginny was speaking, Etean could hear her voice, but her words were too muffled. He got the general gist of what she was trying to say though all the same. He twisted his fingers into her hair and shushed and soothed her as best he could, all the while soaring on the wings of utter relief.

After a time, she drew back from him and looked up into his eyes. "I was so worried…I couldn't find you…I…"

"Shhh," he whispered, and drew her to him again.

Ginny pressed her face into his neck and tightened her grip around his neck, muttering incoherently into his robes all the while. Etean continued to soothe her and hold her as he watched the goings on in the corridor. Despite the general reduction in volume, the air still held a significant charge of pure chaos that didn't seem about to abate. That was, until Dumbledore arrived.

Etean saw him approach out of the corner of his eye and marvelled at how he looked so remarkably clean and calm. The man strolled; he actually strolled amid the chaos, looking determined, yet tranquil at the same time. He was the embodiment of contradiction, the total opposite of everything around him. He stopped in the middle of the chaos and raised his hand, which was holding his wand, high over his head. Dumbledore spoke an incantation aloud, conjuring a brisk wind into the dead air of the corridor. In seconds, visibility had increased to the point where Etean could clearly see the full extent of the devastation, and the rather half-hearted attempts that were being made to sort it all out.

The majority of activity was, unsurprisingly, centred on the blast site itself. Etean spotted Harry and Ron straining to lift a large piece of stone to make way for the second of the two large doors into the ceremony hall. The purpose of this was lost on Etean, however, what did it matter if one or both of the doors could open? The rest of the Hogwarts students, along with a fair few others, were similarly engaged in seemingly useless cleanup operations. Etean shook his head at the sight, and then winced in pain. Damn, his head hurt.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ginny asked him, picking up on his pain.

Etean smiled at that. "I'm fine," he said quietly, then looked up sharply when he heard Dumbledore call his name. Etean marvelled at the sight. Dumbledore had taken charge of the situation in seconds. The rest of the students, and a good few others were gathered round him now, awaiting orders. Etean caught the Dumbledore's eye and nodded. Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Etean pressed his thumb lightly over her lips. "It's alright," he whispered, giving her a squeeze with his other arm and nodding toward the Professor, "We're ok…both of us…but we have work to do," he waited for her to nod and turn herself toward Dumbledore before he looked up at the Professor again, "Sorry Headmaster," he said aloud, "What do you want us to do?"

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Draco's heart stopped in his chest as he watched the last of the potion disappear into Hermione's mouth. She lowered the goblet and swallowed, her face twisting into an odd expression.

"Bad?" Draco asked, though he was almost certain of the answer. Potions were not brewed for flavour.

Hermione's expression remained odd for a second, but then she shuddered and set the goblet down. "Sour milk," she said simply, "I think that's the closest thing to the taste anyway."

Draco nodded. "Could have been worse," he said, trying to hide his growing uneasiness. It was too late now to turn back. Well, it had been ever since she had gone to see that stinking centaur. 'And whose idea was that?' he asked himself.

Hermione wiped at her mouth with a handkerchief that she'd drawn from her sleeve and then hiccoughed once. Draco tensed at the sound. Hermione looked at him for a moment, and then laughed. "Calm down, will you?" she scolded playfully, "It's not like I'm going to grow horns or anything."

Draco took a moment, and then forced his tone to lighten. "Really?" he asked, cocking his head to one side and frowning, "Because...you know…I think they'd suit you."

Hermione stared at him. "Is that so?" she asked. Draco braced himself for a retort, a stinging, yet playful remark to keep him on his toes, but none came. Hermione's mouth opened as though she was going to say something, but all that came out was another hiccough, followed by an unsteady moan. "Whoa…" she mumbled, wobbling on her feet.

Draco nearly vaulted over the cauldron in his haste to reach her. "Hermione," he called, catching hold of her shoulders, "What is it?"

"Its…" she said in a slurred voice, "It's…nothing. I'm jush a little dizzy thas all."

Draco stared at her, watching her face twist up in concentration as she struggled internally for balance. "Here," he said, adjusting his grip on her shoulders and leading her to the bed, "Sit down for a minute."

"Ok," she whispered.

Draco walked her slowly to the bed and then sat her down, edging her far enough onto the bed so she wouldn't fall off if he released her. Was the potion supposed to do this? He wracked his brain, searching for the answer. It was, according to Hermione's research, supposed to make the drinker feel good, euphoric even. When she'd described the effect to him, it had reminded Draco a lot of being drunk.

'People get dizzy when they are drunk,' he told himself, 'nothing to worry about.' "How do you feel now?" he asked her anyway.

Hermione shook her head in answer. She sat still for a while, and seemed to be fighting the urge to get sick a couple of points, but in the end, she settled and appeared to come to her senses a little.

"That's better," she said aloud, her voice sounding clearer than before, but still a little higher pitched than normal. She turned to look at him, grinning at something. "I was away with them there for a bit," she said, reaching up to tap his nose with her index finger, "Wasn't I?"

Draco frowned. "Away with whom?" he asked.

Hermione stared at him as though he was now the one likely to grow horns. "Away with the fairies, silly!" she exclaimed.

'Ok' Draco thought, 'The potion is definitely working now,' "Fairies?" he asked her, wondering where the hell she'd gotten that one.

Hermione scowled. "You know," she gestured in the air with her hand, "the little evil buggers that sneak into people's houses and kidnap their babies."

"What?" Draco laughed. It was possibly the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Fairies? Harmless little fairies kidnap children from their homes?"

"Yup," Hermione smiled, her eyes lost focus for a moment, "Nashy little thingsh they are," she shuddered, "Wicked."

"Wicked…fairies?" Draco had to force himself not to collapse with laughter, "Where could you possibly have heard stories like that?"

"From my dad," Hermione said rather emphatically, "He told me all about them when I was a kid."

"Your dad?" Draco asked, "The muggle? He told you stories about evil fairies?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly at the muggle reference. Draco drew back; he hadn't meant it as an insult, but how else could one describe Frank Granger?

After a heartbeat of contemplation, Hermione seemed to shake it off. "He did," she said, "He used to tell me lots of shtories, and not just about fairies," she turned and stared off into space, "Let's see, there were trolls, giants, pix-HIC-pixies, elves…and lets not forget witches," she giggled, and seemed to lose her train of thought, "Have you ever seen what muggles think witches look like?"

Draco shook his head. "They don't think they look like ordinary people?"

Hermione cast her head back and laughed. "Ha…NO WAY!" she screamed, shaking her head violently, "In muggle stories, witches are always ptor…portree…" she gulped, "made out to be these horrid, twisted, evil creatures with warts all over the place and crooked teeth…" she made a nasty face and then screeched so loud that Draco nearly jumped out of his skin, "and they sound like that," she hissed, before descending into another fit of giggles.

Draco shook his head, evil creatures with warts and bad teeth? He tried to picture what muggles thought witches looked like. His mind conjured up some nasty images, until… "Filch? They think that all witches look like Filch?" he exclaimed, and then rolled his eyes, "Well I mean," he nearly had to shout over Hermione's laughter; "If Filch was a woman of course."

"Right…" Hermione laughed, holding her side, "that's it…that's it exactly," she rolled about laughing for a minute more, "Nasty, isn't it?" she asked wiping her eyes.

"Very," Draco agreed with her. He shuffled closer to her and put his arm back around her, "So tell me," he said, intrigued. The potion seemed to he showing him a different side to this girl, a happier, carefree side. He hadn't seen it in a while, and never directed at him. The realisation gave Draco a pang of sorrow. "Apart from the scary witches and the evil fairies," he said quickly, trying to arrest his downward spiral, "did your father ever tell you any nice stories?"

"They _were_ nice stories," Hermione drew herself up and leaned away from him, "I loved them. I'd make my dad tell them to me over and over."

"Didn't they scare you?"

Hermione paused. "Well, yes they did a bit…but that wasn't the point," she added hastily, "I liked hearing them."

"You like scary stories?"

"No," Hermione slapped at him, "Don intrupt me," she said bossily. Draco clearly heard her slur the words this time.

"Ok then," he said, resisting the urge to smile wide, "Go on."

Hermione tried to glare at him, but didn't manage to do anything but pull a face. "Right then," she said, wobbling a bit, "What I was saying…hup…was that I liked the _way_ my dad told the stories to me," she smiled, "he really got into them, you know? Different voices for the characters and all that," she paused and laughed, "He used to describe all the evil monsters with such flair," she paused again, "Of course, he was just making it all up…but he really made me believe in them. I even…" she tailed off.

"What?" Draco said, shuffling closer to her and looping his arm round her again, "Tell me."

"No," Hermione said evasively, "You'll only laugh at me…its…its shilly."

"It isn't silly," Draco assured her, really interested now, "tell me."

Hermione looked at him for a moment, thinking. "Well," she said eventually, "I…I mean, we, my dad and me…we…used to play this game sometimes…as part of the whole story thing."

"Game?"

"Yes," she nodded, "Well, sort of a game, more of a long running joke really. He called it Fairy Drill."

"What?" Draco asked, disbelieving. Hermione glared at him and he got the message clearly enough, "Sorry," he said waving her on, "please, carry on."

"Right…well Fairy Drill," she emphasised the name, "was pretty simple really. My dad would run around, pretending to panic, telling me that the monsters were in the house looking for me, and I had to go and hide until they went away."

Hermione paused, looking expectantly at him for a reaction. "Erm," Draco said, unsure of what to say, "Sounds…fun."

"It was," Hermione smiled, "We had this signal all worked out – he'd shout 'Pixies!' and I'd run from wherever I was as fast as I could down to the cellar. I had to stay there and make no noise at all until he came and got me."

"Hold on," Draco frowned, "You hid in the cellar?" he asked, astonished, "Alone?" she nodded, still smiling, "And you enjoyed it?"

"Yes, it was fun," she beamed, "I liked it down there. My dad made me this little den behind the coal store."

"Coal store?" Draco's eyebrows shot up; he couldn't imagine Hermione hiding in a coalbunker.

"Yes," Hermione giggled, "but it wasn't dirty or anything. My dad made sure of that. There was this little space that I could just squeeze through. I lined the inside with blankets and pillows… I had toys and books…"

"Of course," Draco said without thinking.

Hermione dug at his ribs. "Yes…it was great. Only me and my dad knew about it," she chuckled, "And he'd always hide little sweets and presents down there for me. Sometimes," she leaned forward conspiratorially, "He'd let me play with my Christmas present down there…early!"

Draco smiled. Hermione's life at home had been so…different to what he'd expected. To what he'd…he stopped himself before he started down that path again.

"So," Draco frowned, "How long did you have stay down there during this game?"

Hermione shrugged. "How should I know? Hours maybe," she said, "I was a bit young to be wearing a watch," she chuckled, "Like I said, I liked it down there anyway…our house isn't all that big, and that was my own little place, just for me."

She smiled at him. Draco found himself leaning forward and kissing her out of reflex. When they parted, he smiled at her. "I'd love to see it sometime," he said.

At that, Hermione's smile faltered for the first time since she'd sat down. "You can't," she said in a flat tone, "it isn't there anymore."

"What happened to it?"

Hermione sighed. "During my first term here, my mum had the cellar rebuilt…they put in an oil furnace to replace the coal."

"Oh," Draco tried to sound as though he understood, "Sorry."

Hermione didn't seem to hear him. "They built this big, ugly thing right where my little den used to be. I was so upset when I saw it."

She sighed hard and looked wistful and distant. Draco frowned at her, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Hey," he said in a mock serious voice, "You aren't supposed to be getting upset tonight…this is supposed to be happy Hermione's night."

Hermione turned to him. "Happy Hermione?" she said sarcastically, "Is that what I'm supposed to be?"

Draco noticed that she was leaning toward him, getting closer. He lowered his head. "Wasn't that the point of this potion of yours?"

"Well," Hermione's arm came round and took hold of his head, "It was one of the reasons anyway."

"Huh?"

Hermione's answer was a slight growl in the back of her throat. She kissed him again, never letting up with the rumbling sound for a second. As he pressed his lips into hers, Draco could feel the sound vibrate trough her mouth and into his. He couldn't understand how she could make such a sound with just her throat, but right now, he didn't care. He let his eyes flutter closed and allowed the sound to fill his mind. It was a simple thing, an animal sound. By its nature, it was ugly and harsh, but not to him, not anymore. Now it was her sound, a noise that would forever bring him to this moment, to this instant as he let it consume him.

Hermione's hand detached from his neck and slowly slid around to his collar. With gentle tugs, she started to carefully open the buttons of his shirt. Once she had reached as low as his heart, she stopped and slipped her hand inside his shirt to run her fingernails in rapid circles across his skin. Draco shivered at her touch. It was neither gentle enough to tickle, nor harsh enough to hurt. It was, simply dizzying.

The kiss ended, taking the sound of her growl with it. Draco instantly missed it and moved forward, seeking it once more. His mouth approached Hermione's, but she darted forward and bit him quickly on the bottom lip, just a nip, a message to back off. She looked at him, and Draco saw something in her eyes that he hadn't ever seen before. He couldn't tell if it was his imagination, or the way the light was hitting them, but they seemed to be sparkling with a strange iridescence. The honey-brown rings of her irises seemed to wash and pulse with their own inner, amber glow. It was the tiniest of things, but Draco was stunned all the same. The breath left him and he gasped.

Hermione's eyes widened. The glow faded, to be replaced by a twinkle of mischief. Draco felt the hairs on his neck stand up as he realised that, while he'd been mesmerised by her eyes, her hand had continued to explore beneath his shirt, and it was now trailing in ever decreasing circles around his belly button. She leaned forward and started to kiss his neck gently, pecking her way slowly downward, following the path that her fingers had just taken. Draco let his eyes flutter closed. His head tilted back and a soft sigh escaped his lips.

Hermione paused. Draco heard her sniff slightly. He figured she just had to take a breath, and that she would continue her explorations in a moment, but she didn't. Instead she sniffed again and Draco felt something warm and wet land on his skin near his heart. He frowned, had she just drooled on him? Draco opened his eyes to see Hermione turning away from him, holding both of her hands over her nose in embarrassment. He smiled and reached out to run his fingers through her hair with one hand while the other moved inside his shirt to wipe away her spittle.

"It's ok," he soothed, his fingers encountered the wet patch that was slowly starting to trickle down over his abdomen, "Don't worry about…"

Draco never finished his sentence. His gaze settled on the tips of his fingers, they were covered in blood. Hermione hadn't dribbled on him, she was bleeding!

"Hey," he called, leaning forward and trying to separate her hands from her face, "Let me see," he told her, gently at first, but then with more force when she didn't respond. He slipped from the bed and turned to kneel in front of her. Hermione kept trying to shield her face with her hands; a deeper hissing growl began to emanate from her throat. Blood had started to trickle down her chin and between her fingers; clearly she was bleeding badly from her nose.

"Hermione," he urged, rummaging about in his robes for his wand, "let me help."

Hermione continued to resist him with all her strength. Her eyes darted about furtively in mad panic, and finally settled on the tip of his wand. "NO!" she yelled, drawing back from him, "Z..ztay away," the words emerged through the rumbling growl.

Draco was stunned, why was she so afraid to let him help her? "It's just a little nosebleed," he said in as calm and confident a voice as he could manage, "I can fix it."

Hermione seemed to calm down a bit, her eyes moved from his wand to his face and the growl faded. Draco took this as a sign that her panic was fading. He moved forward toward her again and moved his wand closer to her face. All she had to do was lower her hands and let him see what he was doing and then…

"I zzzed NOOO" Hermione bellowed so suddenly that Draco dropped his wand in fright. A bone chilling snarl filled his ears, adding a sickening counterpoint to Hermione's voice, ripping all sensible thought from his brain. He lurched backward suddenly, propelled by a sudden uncontrollable fear. It was as though the sound of her words had turned into ice water in the air before washing over his every nerve, driving his body into a frenzy.

Draco landed hard on his backside, staring at her. The look in her eyes at that moment was like nothing he'd ever seen before. A mixture of fear and primal terror took hold of him, freezing him in place.

"I…zed…don't…touch…me," she spoke slowly, the words barely audible over the renewed growl that hung constantly in the air, rising and falling with every breath she took. Draco lay paralysed by fear. His mind wouldn't function. Her glare chased all thoughts away before they could form. He was reduced to staring at her face, watching the blood flow readily from her nose, covering her mouth and dripping onto her shirt.

Hermione held her stare for a few moments, and then faltered. Her gaze softened and her shoulders slumped. A deep frown caught her brow and she seemed to grow confused all of a sudden. Draco felt the use of his limbs return to him. Whatever it was that had just happened was apparently fading fast.

Hermione stared at him again, and then shook her head. "I'm…I'm sorry…I…"

That was all she said. Her eyes widened and she tensed as though suddenly in pain. She held her odd pose for a few moments, before she slumped back hard onto the bed. Draco was on his feet and standing over her before he knew what he was doing.

"Hermione!" he called, but she didn't reply. Draco called her again with the same result. He leaned down, fighting back the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. Hermione's eyes were fixed and open. She was staring straight ahead but Draco could tell that she wasn't conscious. Beads of blood had formed in the corner of each eye like tears that would soon flow down over her cheeks.

"No," Draco whispered, shaking her, praying that she was still breathing at least. He leaned down and listened to her chest. He could hear her heart beating hard and fast like she was in full sprint. Her chest was moving as she took shallow, rapid breaths. In mad panic, Draco slapped at her face, trying to illicit some reaction, any reaction. Hermione's face moved with his touch, but always returned to the same position. Her skin was ice cold, yet he could see beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Draco started screaming her name at her, desperate now for any signs of life. He stood up straight and spun, seeking something, some way to help her. What the hell was going on? What was happening to her?

Draco dropped to his knees and scrambled around on the floor for his wand. He was going to bring her around if it was the last thing he did. He felt the familiar feel of his wand in his fingers, and suddenly he was on his feet again. "Please wake up," he whispered as he took aim at her heart and shouted, "Enervate!" at the top of his lungs.

Hermione's body surged as the spell took hold, tensing still further as the energy from his incantation washed through her. Draco watched, waiting for her to come round. Instead, to his utter disbelief, something beyond reason happened. Crackling like miniature lightning bolts, the sparkling energy trails of his spell arced all over her pale skin, leaving deep, vicious burns wherever they touched. Draco watched in horror, then felt his revulsion fade in an instant, when her whole body surged again and she went into bone snapping convulsions.

Acting on instinct alone, Draco threw himself forward and landed on top of her. He struggled against her flailing limbs with all his might, trying desperately to restrain her until the fit subsided. It was going to subside, he hoped it would, all he had was hope.

Her fit seemed endless, she just continued to kick and shake violently with each passing second. Just when Draco felt his wits end draw into sight, she seemed to settle slightly. Her body seemed to ease and, at last, to relax. Draco released his grip on her. He checked her breathing and heart rate again before rolling off her and sitting up and running his sweating hand through his hair as he struggled to regain his breath. His eyes settled on the cauldron in the middle of the floor, and suddenly and terribly, he knew what was going on. His worst fears were coming true. That potion, that, wild concoction had gone horribly wrong. He didn't know if it was a result of how they had brewed it, or a result of the true nature of the potion itself, but it didn't matter. This had gone far enough, whether Hermione wanted it or not, she was going to get outside help. He had to take her to the Hospital, and quick.

Cursing his own stupidity, along with his utter lack of backbone, Draco stood and scooped Hermione up into his arms. Merlin, she weighed almost nothing at all as he turned and carried her toward the door. The stairs were a darkened blur, fading from his memory as he reached a full run down the corridor.

Draco kicked the doors to the Hospital open with such force that the wood actually splintered. There was a series of muted, yet decidedly harsh comments from the office before Madam Pomfrey appeared, looking thoroughly un-amused, just as Draco roared her name. He laid Hermione's now limp form onto the nearest bed and turned to face the nurse as she bustled over. He opened his mouth to explain what had happened, but Madam Pomfrey shushed him and then brushed right past him to bend low over Hermione's face. The nurse's fingers probed at her neck briefly before checking her eyes for a long while.

"How long ago did the seizure start?" Madam Pomfrey asked without looking up. Draco didn't answer. This was not what he had expected at all. The matron turned her head to face him. "How long?" she demanded with more force.

Draco's mind churned, he really didn't know. It could have been minutes or hours as far as he could recall. But, no, it couldn't have been that long, could it? He shook his head, the nurse needed an answer, any answer. "Five minutes," he said, but that didn't sound right at all, "M…Maybe ten…"

Madam Pomfrey looked at him hard for a moment, then nodded and turned back to Hermione. She rummaged about in the oversized pocket of her robes and drew out a small phial of purple liquid. She then pried Hermione's mouth open and poured the entire contents of the phial down her neck, covering her mouth and nose firmly until Hermione's swallow reflex took over. Madam Pomfrey tossed the empty phial aside and then drew out a soft cloth and started to wipe gently at Hermione's bleeding face. Draco watched in abject horror as the nurse checked, and then rechecked her pulse, muttering to herself all the while. The back of his knees collided with the next bed over and he slumped down, totally ignored by Madam Pomfrey.

Time passed, the nurse finished her initial examination, and then started to clean and treat the visible wounds on Hermione's face. She never once looked at Draco, or asked him what had happened to cause the injuries. Draco found that odd, yet he doubted if he could have answered her if she had. He found that he couldn't drag his eyes from Hermione's unconscious face.

Finally becoming aware of his presence, Madam Pomfrey rounded on him and ordered him to leave, but he flat out ignored her. She didn't seem to be in the mood to press the issue however; instead she simply turned and drew the privacy curtain around the bed.

Alone and confused, Draco's mind ran in circles. He could hear sounds from inside the curtain, and he could hear Madam Pomfrey pass in audible comments, the tone of which frankly terrified him. What he didn't hear was a sound from Hermione. Nothing, not a word or a muted moan came from her. Draco listened and he waited, he listened and he strained, in the end he listened and prayed for even the tiniest of sounds from her, but none came. At intervals, Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtain, always at full bustle, and never straying far from the bedside. Draco continued to stubbornly ignore her repeated demands to leave, just as he ignored her assurances that Hermione would be all right. He wasn't leaving, he wasn't moving from that room until Hermione herself told him she was all right! In the end, Madam Pomfrey seemed to give up on him, but Draco didn't really care.

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It was an aching and weary Etean that climbed the stairs to his room above the Leaky Cauldron, which in the last five hours had been transformed from a dingy bar to the unofficial headquarters of the Ministry of Magic. His head didn't pound any more, it merely buzzed annoyingly. The neural damage wrought by the explosion had begun to subside, which was a good sign. He was sure that his head would have cleared completely were it not for the company he had been keeping. Ginny had been conscripted by her mother to help treat the wounded at St. Mungos, while Etean, and the rest of 'the children' were sequestered in the inn. Oh what fun that was!

What few Ministry officials had been lucky enough not to have been present at the time of the explosion, now tastefully dubbed, 'the incident', had been drafted in to 'Implement the Ministry's Emergency Plan.' Etean scoffed, after spending the last three hours listening to the particulars of the 'Emergency Plan', he was more than convinced that the word 'implement' actually meant 'invent' to these people, and they didn't seem capable of that. They were, in a word, overwhelmed. Etean supposed that they were capable enough in their own right, but none of them were prepared for the burden that had been dumped on their shoulders to suddenly. The uncertainty over the fate of Minister Fudge only added to the burden. It didn't matter that he was still 'officially' alive, he wasn't there to lead them. Despite the fact that Etean was of the opinion that not having Fudge around may in fact be a good thing in the long term, right now it was a problem. Losing their leader at such a time and in such a fashion had left what remained of the Ministry broken and deflated. They no longer believed that they could survive this war, let alone win it. What fragile hope they may have had this morning was gone. Defeat was all they could contemplate now, and still they stalled, and talked.

Etean had sat and listened in disbelief as they had spent the precious few hours that they should have used to prevent mass panic pontificating and posturing over who should be in charge of what, and which duties should be assigned to what committees and the like. Committees? Were they that incompetent? It wasn't until Professor Dumbledore had sent Snape over to take charge that things seemed to settle down.

You had to hand it to Severus Snape, what he lacked in charm, he more than made up for in sheer venom. Within minutes of his arrival he had deftly weeded out all those present that were actually capable of doing anything, and dispatched them to where they were needed. The rest he left where they were, giving them the 'important jobs', which, to Snape, meant the useless, time wasting things that nobody cared about doing. Those who remained were blissfully ignorant of this, laughably so. It gave them something to do, made them feel important and, above all, kept them out of the way of those doing the real work.

As night had drawn on, the decision had been made for the entire Hogwarts contingent to remain in London overnight. Rooms had been arranged for them in the inn. If anybody had noticed that Etean's room had already been booked prior to the events of the afternoon, they hadn't commented. For that Etean was glad. He could have come up with a lie to explain it of course, had he had to, but he was glad to be spared the need all the same. The last few hours had been a blur of dust, blood, pain and death, and he really just wanted to forget all about it. That, of course, was the problem, seeing as how that was precisely what he couldn't do.

The noise of the conversations still carrying on below drifted up the stairs on his heels. It was still early, not even midnight, but Etean knew that there wouldn't be any peace or quiet downstairs all night. Not that there ever was, but this night would be loud, even by the standards of this establishment. He doubted if the Leaky Cauldron had seen such a volume of patronage decades, the inn was full to the rafters. Tom had been fit to burst; he had even claimed that he'd had to expand the top three floors just to make enough room to accommodate all the guests. Etean shook his head, only a bartender could possibly find a silver lining today. About the only way he could have gotten any happier was if his guests had actually been buying drinks instead of just occupying space.

Drinks!

The faces of the Aurors gathered downstairs floated into Etean's mind. They hadn't been drinking, but he had seen the look in each of their eyes, they wanted to be drinking, no, they wanted to be drunk. Each of them was simply waiting for an unconscious sign from the others that the business of the gathering was over, and that it was now ok for them to get plastered beyond recovery. Etean didn't blame them.

The door to Etean's usual room was closed, but not locked, as he approached. Etean mentally reached out to the door, but it didn't budge. Clearly he was not yet back to full strength, that wouldn't do. Cursing silently, he opened it by hand and moved inside, closing the door again behind him silently. Inside, he marched swiftly to the room's single table and drew his wand to conjure his potion. He downed the goblet in one go and then closed his eyes as he felt the potion take hold. As though someone were raising the lights in the room, the world around him sprang to life again and he felt remotely normal for the first time in what seemed like forever. His mind pressed out, taking in his surroundings in a wash of colour and light, before drawing in and concentrating on matters closer to him. The room around him came into sharp focus. Etean noted every twist of fabric in the drapes, every mote of dust on the floor. Everything in that room was precisely as it should be, except for one thing.

Sitting innocently on the windowsill was a small, wooden pipe. By no means expensive or interesting by itself, only the fact that it was out of place made him notice it. To the untrained eye, such a thing wouldn't be worthy of much attention, merely a personal effect left behind by a previous tenant of the room and overlooked by a careless cleaner. To Etean, however, it was a different story. To his eyes it was much more than a simple pipe, it was charged and alive. He took one step closer to it, reaching out to lift it from the window with a touch of his renewed mental strength.

"A portkey, my lord," the words came from the shadows behind him, along with the first stir that the presence there had made since Etean's arrival.

"Indeed," Etean replied coolly, "Thank you for the clarification, Duncan."

Etean turned to see the cloaked figure materialise from the darkest corner of the room and stand to attention in the light. Duncan brought his talon-claw to his chest in a smart salute and nodded his head slightly at the same time.

"Reporting by your order, my lord," he said smartly.

'Clean, precise, formal,' Etean thought privately. 'He knows he's pissed me off!' Etean resisted the urge to roar at him. 'First things first!' he pointed to the pipe that still hovered in the air, "Tell me how this got here," he commanded.

"It was delivered less than an hour ago, my lord, by a Death Eater," a hint of worry crept into Duncan's tone at that.

Etean merely raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked, thoroughly unsurprised, "and were you able to identify that particular Death Eater?"

Duncan nodded. "I was, my lord, conclusively," he raised his gaze to level it at Etean, "It was Malfoy."

That did come as a surprise to Etean. He hadn't expected Lucius to be the one to contact him, not after the last time. He resisted the urge to ask if Duncan was certain he hadn't mistaken the visitor's identity. That would only lead to further questions, besides, Duncan was sure – he wouldn't have said anything if he wasn't.

"I see," he said, sending the pipe back to its resting place with a stray thought.

Reading his expression better than Etean would have liked, Duncan took a step toward him as Etean turned his back. "You cannot be considering using that portal, my lord?"

Etean paused. "So what if I am?"

"Well I…" Duncan started, "I only meant that, you are hardly in any condition to engage the Death Eaters alone, my lord…your injuries…"

Etean drew himself up, remembering just why Duncan was there in the first place. "Are healing," he said simply, "And I will do what I choose to, Duncan. Your opinion is not required, nor is your concern," he added scornfully.

Duncan let out a breath. "Yes, my lord."

"Good," Etean sighed and strolled to the window. The room he chose in the Leaky Cauldron always overlooked the muggle street rather than Diagon Alley. Etean had always preferred it that way. Muggles were always much more entertaining to watch than wizards, they were so free, so content in their ignorant little worlds. Tonight, however, the muggle street was deserted, not a soul was in sight. 'Damn!' He leaned his head against the glass, enjoying the way that the cool pane soothed the dying throb in his skull.

"If I may ask, my lord," Duncan said quietly, "How are things progressing downstairs?"

Etean laughed. "Downstairs?" he shook his head, "Nothing that happens downstairs is of the slightest consequence. All they do down there is talk, yet they say nothing. They speak merely to hear their own voices…they make noise because they fear the silence."

"It is that bad?"

Etean sighed. "It's worse," he breathed, "People, the few who retain the will to fight, are trying to pretend that they still have hope. Dumbledore, and a few others are doing everything they can to keep them together, running them about in a frenzy and chasing dead end leads in an attempt to stop them from realising just how bad things have just gotten, and they have gotten bad, Duncan, very bad. Minister Fudge is almost certainly dead, and if he isn't, then I don't expect him to live out the night. The Ministry Headquarters has been all but destroyed…as good as anyway, for all the use it will be to those that remain. Fear and mad panic are spreading like a fire through the city, its only a matter of time before the whole fucking country finds out what has happened here, and panics as well…" he trailed off, realising that he was babbling.

Duncan's footstep was barely audible, but Etean's head twitched all the same. "My lord," he spoke carefully, "your despair confuses me. This was expected, was it not? Panic…chaos…the end of reason, it was all foreseen."

"Was it?" Etean spat, not turning round, "And is that supposed to make it alright?"

Duncan sounded sure. "It was…it is…necessary, my lord."

"Who are you to tell me that?" Etean barked, "Who am I to deserve answer? This was all my fault, Duncan. Today was a day of suffering, which I could have prevented, a day of pain, which I allowed to happen, and a day of death, which I caused."

"But…"

"Good men died today, Duncan, because of me!"

"My lord…"

Etean rounded on Duncan, his mind surging out before him like a wave. "Etyar, Duncan, Etyar died today! They died because they were there today fulfilling an oath they made to me, because of that oath, because of ME, Duncan, those men lie dead now."

Duncan reeled, the walls in his mind shot up to hold back the storm of Etean's rage. "They gave their lives," he said, surprisingly clearly, "as was their duty, my lord…nothing more."

"Nothing…" Etean faltered, he could hardly believe the word had just been said, "Nothing more? How can you stand there and say that? What more can a man give but his life? What more can be asked of any man?"

Duncan's jaw worked silently for a moment as he composed his response. "My lord," his voice faded as he was forced to dedicate his conscious mind to the effort of defending himself, "please…"

Etean drew back and sneered. He reigned his anger in and allowed Duncan to relax. "Speak."

Duncan took several breaths to regain his self-control. "The Etyar who died today gave their lives in service to their cause. To protect you, and your name is the reason for our very existence."

"I know the speech, Duncan, I've heard it before, remember?"

"Yes, my lord," Duncan took a step toward him, "But if I may say so, I do not believe that you have ever truly listened to it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means…" he hesitated slightly as Etean's face betrayed his reaction to the tone he was using, "That the oaths we take, my lord," he continued in a more level tone, "they are not mere words, not to us," Duncan raised his hand and tapped his heart, "Our duty is our life, it defines who we are, and what we are. We all make the same vow, my lord, to protect you no matter the cost," Duncan sighed, "I have tried to teach you this, as was my duty, but it appears as though I failed."

Etean stepped back from him, and smiled. "You failed, did you? I don't understand?" he asked, "We'll see."

Etean turned and walked over to the table again. A wave of his hand conjured a piece of parchment and a quill. He held the quill above the page for several seconds, still unsure of his actions. The image of the Aurors below, struggling to maintain the last shreds of professionalism they possessed. "Tell me of your mission, Duncan, do the Etyar stand ready as was ordered?"

Duncan's reply was a moment coming. 'They are that, my lord, and more."

Etean laughed, but the sound was hollow to him. His fingers hesitated. This was an order he had promised himself that he would never give, and he hated breaking that promise. In a flash of desperation, his mind searched for some way out, but there were none. His options, once without limit, were now stripped away to nothing. He had no choice now, it was this or annihilation. In one quick stroke he wrote:

_'Débutez l'Opération Judas'_

He scanned it. 'Commence Operation Judas,' three words that meant so much to so many, and they didn't even know about it. Etean shook his head, a quick touch of his ring, first to sign it, and once again to seal it and it was done. A simple command that once given, could never be taken back. Etean stood up and rolled the parchment in his hand for a moment before turning back to Duncan. He stepped forward and waved it at him. "Orders…to be carried out before dawn, do you understand?"

Duncan nodded and took the parchment. He turned it over in his hand and then made to open it, but Etean stopped him. "What are you doing?"

Duncan looked confused. "My Lord?"

Etean shook his head. "You misunderstand me, Duncan. Those orders are for Dominic. I want you to deliver them to him for me."

Duncan's frown deepened. "I do not understand."

Etean crossed to the window and sat against the sill. "Something confuses you?"

"Yes," Duncan answered, "and, forgive my assumption, but, I believe that, by this order, you commit us to war…and you wish…Dominic to lead us?"

Etean nodded slowly. "You're assumptions are correct, both of them."

Duncan reeled backward slightly. "My lord…I…"

"Something troubles you?" Etean raised an eyebrow, "Then speak!" he ordered.

"Dominic is not a soldier, my lord."

"He is capable," Etean commented flatly.

"Capable yes," Duncan's tone bordered on becoming truly emotional for a change, "but of this, to lead us to war?" he shook his head, "Dominic is…a bureaucrat, my lord, an organiser, a facilitator, not a warrior."

"I don't need a warrior, Duncan," Etean said, "This war has its share of those, on both sides," he shook his head, "What it lacks, however, and what I need is someone that I can rely on to follow my orders to the letter, no matter what, and Dominic is more than suited for that task."

"Obey orders, my lord, I…"

Duncan's words vanished into the air as Etean reached into his robes and withdrew the tiny green bottle. He held it aloft for Duncan to see. Duncan's eyes settled on it, and then moved to Etean's face once more.

Etean schooled his features. "Your reaction tells me you know what this is."

Duncan nodded. "I do, my lord."

"You've seen this before? Or one like it?"

"I have…"

"Good," Etean sounded chipper, but his face didn't change, "Then you know why I have called you here tonight?"

"My Lor…"

Etean didn't want to hear whatever platitude was coming. "You are here, Duncan, because I felt as though I owed you a chance, this one chance, to explain yourself and your actions," he paused, and cocked his head to the side, "Tell me," he asked, changing his tone, "What is the normal punishment that an Etyar can expect for disobeying a direct order?"

Duncan drew himself upright. "Banishment, my lord, forever to be cast out, alone."

"Excellent," he turned and seated himself on the window ledge, careful not to touch the pipe, "Now then, as I understand it, your orders, prior to your current assignment, were to track down Hermione Granger and her family, and then to report back to me with a first hand assessment of their situation, is that correct?"

"It is," Duncan's back was stiff as steel now.

"And this assessment was to be made _covertly_?'

"It was, my lord."

"Covertly, as in no contact?" Duncan didn't answer, "Speak!" Etean bellowed at him.

Duncan paused, staring straight ahead of him at the wall beside Etean's head. "Those," he said finally, "were my orders, my lord."

"And is that what you did?" Etean asked, grinding his teeth.

"I made my assess…" Duncan tailed of and lowered his head, "No, my lord," he said quietly, "it was not."

"So what did you do?"

"I…" Duncan looked up at Etean, "I have no excuse, my lord," he said clearly, "I violated your orders," he reached up and tugged the silver rank badge from his collar, "I stand ready for your judgement," he said, holding the badge out to Etean solemnly.

In one step, Etean was before him. "Don't you dare," he roared, slapping the badge away fiercely, sending it flying into the corner of the room, "How can you have the audacity to stand there and offer not even a word to explain yourself?" He stared into Duncan's eyes, met by a dead look in return, "You are my Captain General, Duncan, I chose you for that role because I trusted you, and now you break your oath? You, and you alone knew about her. You and only you were trusted with this, and you, of all people, betray me? Why, Duncan, I will know why!"

Behind his stoic features, Duncan's face threatened to twitch. "I never intended to betray you, my lord," Duncan replied, his stare wavering slightly, "I would never…" he paused, and regained his composure, "If you believe nothing else, you must believe that. My actions were meant only to help you."

Etean rocked back. "Help me?" he spat. "You were trying to help me?" He shook his head in disbelief, "I explained to you, I trusted you with the truth. I told you at length what I needed you to do and why I needed you to do it, and you do this? How does this help me, Duncan? HOW?"

"My lord," Duncan answered, sounding careful, "I realise that my actions were out of place, and that I acted without authority, but I…I felt compelled to do something. I heard your words, I knew the strain you were under. With all the problems you already faced, I didn't think you needed to deal with the girl on top of everything else, so I took action to remove her, and her problems, from your path."

Etean took a moment to process this, when he did, all he could do was laugh. "Duncan," he breathed, "You are, without a doubt, the DUMBEST person I know."

Duncan's brow creased. "My lord?"

"Did it ever occur to you that, were the solution to the 'Problems' of Hermione Granger simply a matter of making her take a little potion, that it would have been done long ago?"

Duncan's frown deepened. "I do not understand."

"No, Duncan," Etean turned away from him, "It is painfully clear that you do not," he paused to shake his head, "Tell me, what did you think it would do to her?"

"It…" Duncan's eyes widened in sudden realisation, "What did it do?"

Etean barked out a laugh. "It did what it was supposed to do, but, thanks to you, it did it before it was supposed to do it. Right now, thanks you your 'help', her condition is progressing at ten times the rate that it should be."

Duncan's face blanched. "My lord…how? I did not realise…"

"No, Duncan, you didn't, because you are a soldier. Your job is to listen to orders and to obey, nothing more. You weren't told the full story, because you didn't need to know. You were never supposed to know. Hermione Granger was, from the start, MY problem to deal with and now, thanks to you, I must deal with it all the sooner."

"Forgive me, my lord," Duncan stared at the floor, "That was not my intention." He looked up into Etean's eyes once more, "What can I do? What must I do to correct my error?"

"I've had enough of your help in this matter, Duncan," Etean sighed.

"Then," Duncan's face fell, "What would you have me do?"

Etean returned to his seat by the window, "I would have you follow my orders, Duncan," he pointed to the scroll in Duncan's hand, "Deliver that to Dominic and see that he understands that HE is to command the Etyar until such time," he paused, remembering the rank badge. A flick of his mind called it to his hand and he held it aloft, "Until such time, Duncan, as I decide who it is that should wear this."

"Yes, my lord," Duncan nodded, "And then?"

Etean sighed. "Then, Duncan, you will clean up this mess you have made," Etean drew himself up at Duncan's raised eyebrow, "I don't see any further reason for the Granger's to exist, do you?"

Duncan paused, and then shook his head. "No," he said sombrely, "I don't suppose there is."

"So," Etean stood up again, "you understand then? I want them gone, I want it done quickly and quietly and I want YOU to do it, and leave no trace, is that clear?"

"It is, my lord, perfectly. It will be done," Duncan saluted.

Etean didn't return it, instead he turned his back. "Fine, then go."

Duncan didn't move. "What of the girl, my lord?"

Etean stopped in mid step. "The girl?" his mind flashed on Granger again, and his jaw tensed, "Like I said, she is my problem, just as she always has been. I will deal with her."

He heard Duncan lower his salute. "Yes, my lord."

_ A/N: Righty O, believe it or not, that was HALF of what you've been waiting so long for. My sincerest of apologies for the wait, but life kept getting in the way, you know how it goes. I decided to split this chapter when i realised how long it was going to be, now all I have to do is write the second half. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this addtition to my saga, was it worth the wait? As always, feel free to let me know your opinions/comments.  
_


	52. Drawing the Line

Hermione's eyes moved rapidly behind their lids. Draco stared as though petrified, watching her sleep, watching her nightmare. Even without trying, he could feel a touch of the fear that was consuming her. Draco was too scared to strengthen the contact any further because he couldn't bear the thought that doing so might hurt her even more. Things were bad enough as it was. Draco's mind had gone beyond fear, beyond confusion. His mind felt utterly numb, unable to focus on any particular emotion. He felt helpless.

Madam Pomfrey had been adamant in her treatment of Hermione, barely seeming to consider any of what Draco had been trying to tell her before making her diagnosis. He'd tried to explain, tried to tell her what had caused her seizure, but the matron hadn't listened, and had forced a sleeping tonic down Hermione's throat despite Draco's protests. She had flat out ignored Draco's repeated attempts to explain about the potion. She hadn't even spoken directly to him except to order him to leave. Motivated by sheer frustration, and when his arguments had run out and his temper neared boiling point, Draco had agreed, only to retreat into the shadows and persuade his cloak to hide his presence before returning to Hermione's bedside.

That was hours ago and now he was alone in the dark, waiting, and he didn't even know what he was waiting for. Hermione couldn't wake up from this nightmare; she was trapped now inside her own mind just as she had feared. As Draco looked at her, he felt his heart grow heavy.

Movement to his left caught his attention and he turned his head to see the shadowy form of Professor McGonagall standing by the end of the bed. Draco had to stifle a gasp of surprise as he hadn't heard her approach. McGonagall stood there, silently, staring down at Hermione for a long moment, then, in a rapid movement, she spun on her heel and moved silently into the night. As she turned away from him the moonlight caught her face and Draco noticed for the first time that her cheeks were wet with tears. He frowned, seeing McGonagall, the ice hearted demon-queen that presided over her lessons with all the warmth of a Siberian winter, in tears was a shock to his system. The realisation that she was crying because of Hermione, and whatever it was that that infernal potion had done to her, only deepened his uneasiness.

McGonagall moved off, walking silently toward the nurse's office. A light showing from beneath the door told Draco that Madam Pomfrey was still awake. He had expected as much, doubtless she would be up all night to monitor her patient. McGonagall knocked the door once before entering without a word. Draco caught the faint sound of Madam Pomfrey greeting her as she pushed the door over, but not quite closed. Something wasn't right here. Should McGonagall be here? Wasn't she in London? Draco stared at the door, and in a moment his mind was made up. He was on his feet and all but running to the door before he knew what he was doing. Slowing his pace to remain silent, he crept up to the door, straining to hear their conversation.

Their voices from inside the office became audible as Draco turned to kneel by the doorway, carefully placing himself in the shadows out of instinct.

"I can't believe it!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, "Minister Fudge dead? Are you sure?"

At that, Draco's mind went blank. 'WHAT?'

"Albus has decided not to announce it immediately," McGonagall's voice sounded flat and drained, "He wants to avoid open panic, or at least delay it for the time-being. Gods," she exclaimed, "I can't believe it. How can this have happened? And in the Ministry of all places? Albus saw to the security arrangements personally. He put barriers in place that I couldn't even describe. There was no way, NO WAY, that they should have been able to get to him."

Draco took a breath, and then he tried to sort things out in his head. Fudge was dead? As the pieces fell together in his mind, Draco swallowed. 'Oh hell!'

Madam Pomfrey's words dragged Draco's attention back to reality. "Were any of our students hurt?"

McGonagall didn't answer immediately. Draco heard the clink of her setting a glass down, it sounded full. "Not really," McGonagall answered. "Ron Weasley's eardrum ruptured, but they set that right in St. Mungo's in no time. The rest…nothing but a few cuts and bruises, and one hell of a fright needless to say…it could easily have been far worse…had they attacked an hour earlier…"

"Well," Madam Pomfrey's voice took on the air she used with her patients, calm and confident, "at least that's something. As you said, it could have been far worse. You are alive, Albus is alive, and the children are alive. Where life remains, all wounds will heal."

"You say that a lot, Poppy, but do you really believe it?" McGonagall asked as Draco shuffled forward, trying to get closer to the crack in the door. His mind was buzzing, trying to sort out the true state of things. No matter how he sliced it though, this was bad.

"I do," was the answer Madam Pomfrey gave, followed by, "I have to…especially now. One moment, Minerva."

Draco heard approaching footsteps and shrank back from the door just as Madam Pomfrey opened it and stepped out. She stopped just past the doorway and swept her gaze around the room, pausing long and hard at Hermione's bed. Apparently satisfied, she turned on her heel and re-entered the office, leaving the door open wide behind her.

Draco let out the breath he had been holding as McGonagall spoke. "Is she alright?' she asked.

"She's fine," Madam Pomfrey answered. "As healthy and as strong as she can be under the circumstances. The draught I gave her will keep her out for the night."

"You put her out?" McGonagall frowned, "But she seemed so restless a moment ago."

"I know, I had expected as much," Madam Pomfrey paused and screwed up her face in concentration, "I wish I could do more for her. I gave her the strongest sedative I could. Anything more powerful could be dangerous. She'll be out for the night," Madam Pomfrey sighed, "but as for how much rest she'll get…Merlin knows," she shook her head, "Especially with that…boy hovering over her."

"Boy?" McGonagall frowned, "What boy?"

"Mr Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey corrected her. Draco tensed. "I was just making sure that he hadn't decided to sneak back in."

"Draco Malfoy? He was here?"

The nurse nodded. "He was the one who brought Miss Granger in, carried her in his arms if you can believe it, and then he wouldn't leave. He kept badgering me with questions and babbling incessantly. I was quite annoyed at him really."

Draco's attention was riveted on McGonagall's face as he listened, watching her reaction. "They have become quite close lately, difficult to believe as it may be," McGonagall said, sounding a little amused to Draco's ears, "Who could have seen it coming…those two?"

"I can't say that I noticed," Madam Pomfrey set her hands on her hips and frowned, "There was one thing though, he kept babbling on about a potion…something she'd taken."

Draco swallowed hard, so she hadn't been ignoring him completely.

"A potion?" McGonagall asked. "What kind of potion?"

"I don't know," the nurse shook her head, "Knowing Miss Granger, it was probably something she dreamt up to try and heal herself."

McGonagall smiled faintly. "That sounds about right," her smile faded, "That's Hermione for you. What was it?"

"I don't know," Madam Pomfrey shrugged, "I was a little too busy at the time to pay much attention. Young Malfoy did seem to think that whatever it was, was responsible for what happened to her tonight…he kept insisting on it in fact."

"He may have been right, Poppy!" McGonagall exclaimed as she turned to face the matron, "Hermione's about the brightest witch we've got, and Malfoy's no troll either. Who knows what kind of concoctions those two could come up with if they set their minds on it? You didn't even ask him?"

Draco exhaled, slowly, that was more like the McGonagall he knew. He mentally braced himself for a serious tongue lashing in the coming days.

'I don't care,' he said to himself, 'just as long as she's alright.'

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "There was no point!"

"No point?" the words all but exploded from McGonagall, "Poppy, how can you say that? Maybe he was right, maybe this…this is nothing but a really big mistake…"

"Minerva, please," Madam Pomfrey interrupted her, "If that were even the slightest possibility, don't you think I'd have explored it? Don't you think I want to be wrong?" Draco swallowed hard as the nurse paused, his breathing was getting heavier with each passing moment. "I ran a thorough check on her once I had her stabilised, and, other than what I was expecting to find, I found nothing at all out of the ordinary, except…"

"What?" McGonagall insisted, "Except what?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "The only odd thing that I found was that her white blood cell count was rather high, as though her body was fighting off an infection, but I couldn't find one in her system."

"I am not wrong on this, Minerva," Madam Pomfrey pinched the bridge of her nose as she spoke, "I have done every test that I know of, trying to prove myself wrong," her voice had a waver in it now, "I've spent every waking moment this past week pouring over my notes," she waved wildly at a stack of parchment on her desk, "and any other information I could find, trying to find something, anything that I missed, but I came up empty."

"I'm sorry Poppy," McGonagall apologised, "I didn't mean to imply…" she sighed, "I know you know how to do your job. It's just that there hasn't been a confirmed case of Nailar's Syndrome in over thirty years." McGonagall shook her head. "When I got your message I nearly collapsed on the spot. I had to read it a dozen times before the words would even sink in. I've spent every moment since trying to find a way around it. I didn't want to believe it and I still don't. Hermione cannot have Nailar's, she just can't," she exclaimed, "It isn't possible."

"Believe me, Minerva, I know how you feel, but the tests were conclusive," Madam Pomfrey pointed at her desk again. "The numbers don't lie. All the chemical markers for Nailar's Syndrome are there, all of them."

McGonagall picked up a file folder and looked at the pages inside. Draco watched her eyes scan the parchment, resisting the urge to run over and read it himself. Cloak or no cloak, he knew he'd be noticed in that cramped office.

McGonagall turned the page, and her whole body stiffened as though she had been hit by a chill wind. "Is this…"

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey answered, "That's Trevor's file." A tremble shot through McGonagall as she heard the name. Draco squinted and inched closer until he could just about make out the name on the page that McGonagall was holding.

'_Trevor McGonagall._'

And he saw the glaring red stamp that had been embossed onto the page:

'_Deceased._'

McGonagall's face had become an ashen mask as she turned to face Madam Pomfrey. The nurse smiled softly at her. "I'm sorry, Minerva," she said, "I had to pull the file from St. Mungo's. I needed a point of reference for Miss Granger's symptoms."

McGonagall stared at her. She looked numb. "Symptoms?" she asked, sounding dumbstruck. Her head turned slowly; her face showed a look of deep concentration. "I know she was having trouble sleeping, one look at her and you could tell that, and I heard about what happened during her duel with Pansy Parkinson…her injuries…I knew there was _something_ wrong, but this?" she turned to look in the direction of Hermione's bed, "Not this!" She turned back to Madam Pomfrey. "Its all happening again, isn't it?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "We can only conclude that it is. When that spell burned her a few weeks ago, the wound was…unmistakable. Since then I've kept an eye on her, discreetly, and it's all there. Muscle spasms…intermittent loss of fine motor control…extreme aversion to external magical energies…and now…now a full blown neural seizure…"

"How…" McGonagall paused, "How far has it progressed?"

"That," Madam Pomfrey said, "is another problem…"

"How so?"

"I've been monitoring her black cell count very carefully recently, and its rising fast, too fast! It passed 80,000 sometime yesterday by my estimate," she reached out and selected a page from her desk, "It's over 85,000 now, at this rate…"

"85,000!" McGonagall whispered in astonishment, "but that's…"

"Unsustainable," Madam Pomfrey finished for her.

Draco tried to follow any of this, none of it made any sense to him. It had both women worried though, and that made Draco worry.

"So soon?" McGonagall's voice was as close to panic as Draco could imagine it ever being. This disease, whatever it was, had her truly scared. Draco was really starting to wonder just how bad it was. "It can't be…it should take…months…"

"It should, but it isn't," the Nurse shook her head, "Her condition is progressing at a vastly elevated rate, nearly ten times as fast as…" Draco narrowed his eyes and stared, it seemed to him that Madam Pomfrey may have just shed a tear, but he couldn't be certain, "Ten times as fast as Trevor," she finished quietly. Draco frowned, who was Trevor? His name was McGonagall…a relative maybe?

Professor McGonagall turned and again faced the wall as though she were looking at Hermione. Her mouth hung open as tears openly fell down her face. "Does she know?" she said, so quietly that Draco barely heard her.

"No, not all of it, not yet," Madam Pomfrey sighed, "She knows she has MPD, I diagnosed her some time ago, but beyond that…I didn't know how to tell her. I didn't know that I should. That's why I called you to come back tonight," she paused and looked at the back of McGonagall's head for a moment, "I thought it might be better coming from you."

McGonagall exhaled and seemed to shrink before Draco's very eyes. "Me?" she asked, visibly shaking, "Poppy I…I can't."

"Who else can it be, Minerva?" Madam Pomfrey, "Other than the two of us, I doubt there's a single person in this castle that has even heard of Nailar's Syndrome, and besides, you…well anyone can see that you are close to her," she paused an laid a hand on McGonagall's shoulder, "It should be you, Minerva," she said gently, "It has to be you."

"I tell you I can't do it, Poppy," McGonagall shook the nurse's hand off and stepped away, "And I don't know how you of all people can ask me to. There must be something you can do…some treatment to try?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "None that wouldn't do more harm than good. Surely you remember…"

"But," McGonagall sounded close to losing her temper, "it's been thirty-seven years since Trevor…are you telling me that in all that time, nobody has come up with anything new?"

"No…nothing," Madam Pomfrey answered. "Medical research is driven by demand, Minerva, and you said it yourself, there hasn't been a case of Nailar's Syndrome in more than thirty years. With no patients to treat, there was little need to develop treatments. People just gave up, hoping the problem had fixed itself."

"Well it hasn't," McGonagall all but shouted. "There has to be something, Poppy, somebody, somewhere that can help?"

"I've looked…you have no idea how I've looked. I have sent more owls in the last fortnight than I can count to more medical researchers than I knew existed. Everyone I could think of with any experience of Nailar's Syndrome, and anybody else that I thought could help, but I got nowhere."

"Nowhere? No one answered you?"

"No, they did…for all the good it did me," Madam Pomfrey shook her head, "I got a lot of long winded, if eloquently worded dead ends. Most of them seemed to think I was looking for a research position or something…"

McGonagall shook her head. "I can't believe this is happening…not again."

"Nor can I," Madam Pomfrey stepped toward her, "But it is, and we need to deal with this, no matter how hard it is for us. Nobody else knows…nobody else has seen what this disease can do…what it will do to her."

There was genuine dread in Madam Pomfrey's voice now. Draco's felt his gut turn solid in an instant.

"Trevor was my husband, Poppy," McGonagall snapped, "I don't need reminding of that, thank you."

'WHAT?' Draco actually had to cover his mouth as he heard those words. Husband?

"I didn't mean…"

"Thirty-Seven years," McGonagall said sharply, "That's how long it's been since…since I lost him. I watched as that monster of a disease robbed him of his strength, his independence and his dignity…in the end it even took his mind. I could do nothing but sit there and watch him suffer…to the end," she paused and screwed her eyes shut for a moment, before she turned on Madam Pomfrey sharply, "And now you want me to walk in there and tell that girl…that innocent child…that she should expect the same fate? That she should expect to die? No, Poppy, I can't do it."

Draco had to bite his tongue to stop a moan escaping his lips. Die? No he couldn't have heard her correctly. Hermione couldn't be…this wasn't happening. Draco rocked forward onto his knees, not caring if the others heard his movement. He stared blankly at Madam Pomfrey, praying that she would smile and that this would turn out to be some horrid joke she was playing, but she didn't. Instead, she set her face and stared at McGonagall. "She has to be told, Minerva."

"Why?" McGonagall shot back hard, "Why does she have to be told that she's…that she's dying?" Draco slumped hard… "Why not let carry on as she is? Why can't we just let her enjoy…however long she has left?"

There was an answer; Draco saw Madam Pomfrey give it. He watched as they continued to talk and gesture to one another, but he heard none of it, not a word registered. He kept hearing McGonagall's voice again and again in his head, 'she's dying...Hermione's dying…dying!' His brain wouldn't function, his mind couldn't make room for the idea to register. It wasn't until McGonagall stormed toward him, and he found himself shimmying out of the way to let her pass that he became aware of himself again. McGonagall said something as she stepped through the doorway, a harsh comment about not giving up directed over her shoulder at Madam Pomfrey. Draco looked over to see Madam Pomfrey shake her head in defeat. She said nothing more, nor did she make any attempt to stop the Professor from leaving.

Draco turned to see McGonagall pause by Hermione's bed. She gazed down at her for a moment, then left. Draco stood up, staggering on shaky knees half stumbled forward to the end of the bed. The all too familiar pit of despair opened up inside him once again as he looked down at Hermione's sleeping form. His eyes settled on her face, he watched her eyes twitch continually in her perpetual nightmare and he felt physically sick. Even now she had no peace? Even as she…how could this happen to her? How could something so horrid happen to someone so delicate, so special? His jaw clenched in sheer rage at the thought. It couldn't happen, it WOULDN'T. McGonagall was right, there could be no giving up, never. There had to be a way to stop it. Draco's fist clenched in anger as he vowed to himself that he would stop it. This disease, whatever it was, wouldn't claim her. He would stop it.

Anger faded, swallowed by despair, and Draco had to fight to remain upright. He felt sick to his stomach, realising that no matter how badly he wanted to help, no matter how desperately he wished he could help her, he couldn't. He hadn't ever heard of this 'Nailar's Syndrome' before tonight, and he certainly had no idea where he could begin to find a way to help Hermione recover from it. He thought of the library, but the thought was laughable. If the answer were in there, if it were that simple, surely better people than him would have found it by now.

The conversation he just witnessed played again, and Draco felt his knees threaten to give way from beneath him. He turned away from the sleeping Hermione and looked once again at the nurse's office. Madam Pomfrey was standing in the doorway now, holding a glass of what Draco assumed was brandy. Draco frowned at her. She just stood there, holding the glass to her lips without drinking. He looked closer, and he could see the fatigue on her face. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing very slowly through her nose. Then, slowly, she lowered the glass and poured its contents onto the floor before returning to her office.

Draco stood in place, transfixed. He didn't know anything about this illness, but Madam Pomfrey did and, by the look of her, she had given up. Draco felt anger rise again and he held onto it out of desperation. Was she that incompetent? Could he find someone better? A private doctor…no a team of them, could they help Hermione? That's what he'd do, he'd get the best team of doctors in the world…lock them in a room and refuse to let them out till they had a cure. That would…he stopped himself, that would be a waste of time. Madam Pomfrey wasn't incompetent, she was the best there was. She had tried to get help, and she had failed.

Draco felt numb. He had never heard of an illness that the Hogwarts nurse couldn't treat. Until tonight, he would have taken a bet that there weren't any such illnesses in a heartbeat, but now?

Shaking his head to clear it, Draco turned in place, seeking for some ray of hope in the darkness. Hermione was sick…she was dy…she was sick, and she needed help. He couldn't help her, Madam Pomfrey couldn't help her, Professor McGonagall couldn't help her…but she needed help. Who could help her? Who could he turn to?

A hard lump formed inside his cloak as though a solid object had just materialised there. Draco reached in and drew the Book of the Ascension from his pocket.

'What the fuck?'

He stared at the book in confusion. Why in all the world did his cloak give him this? What use could he possibly have for this book? And now, why now? The Ascension had nothing to do with any disease, not that he knew. Draco sat on the edge of an empty bed and turned the book over and over in his fingers. He knew there would be little point in trying to ask the cloak why it had decided he needed it, the answer would probably only confuse him further. He shook his head, there were times when he really didn't know which was more confusing, this cloak, or the person who had given it to him? His mind flashed on Etean, and in one second, the solution presented itself.

Draco leapt to his feet so fast that the book slipped from his fingers and he had to scramble just to hang onto the damned thing. Holding it firmly, Draco looked at it in his hands. The Book of the Ascension, he knew it well. He had read it from cover to cover, and he was all but sure that he understood the covers. Most of the bits in between were gibberish but that didn't matter, he had long since stopped caring about that. This book was the key, not for what it was, but for where he had gotten it. Etean had given it to him, and where had he gotten it? Draco looked down at the sleeping Hermione and smiled. He turned on his heel and left the infirmary. McGonagall was back from London, so Etean should be too.

Draco stopped in the hallway and frowned, how could he find Etean? Would he be in Slytherin? Or maybe he would be with Ginny Weasley in some dark corner. 'Damn!' he thought, then the answer came to him. 'Just call the guy…why not?'

Draco set his mind and reached out. 'ETEAN!' he called as loud as he could. At least, he hoped the thought was broadcasting, he hadn't ever tried this before. No answer came, so Draco called again, with the same result.

Frustrated, Draco turned in place, seeking further inspiration. If he had done that right, and for the moment he allowed himself to assume that he had, then Etean would have heard him. He had to conclude, therefore, that he was on his own. So what now? He looked at the book again and thought hard. Etean must have gotten this from somewhere, and Draco doubted it would have been from any source that Madam Pomfrey would know of. The Circle had to have an information resource of some kind and if Madam Pomfrey didn't know about it, then she couldn't have checked it, so maybe…maybe there was a chance.

It made sense, it really did, The Circle had to know something about this disease, they just had to. A thousand years of protecting ancient secrets – modern ones too if Draco hadn't missed the point totally, if they didn't know, who would? Draco set his jaw, the Circle could help her and they _would_ help her. His smile faded and his eyes narrowed in determination. Their walls and eternal secrets be damned! The Circle had asked so much of him, it was about time they gave something back.

Shoving the book into his cloak, Draco spun on his heel and headed on a straight line to the dungeons. He didn't stop, didn't even slow down until he reached the entrance to the Training Room. Seconds later, he was through the door that connected Hogwarts to the Circle Academy, and was sprinting down the familiar, never ending corridor.

The place seemed deserted, which annoyed him. All the way here he had been working himself up for an argument. He was ready to tear into anyone or anything that stood in his way. Now, finding no opponent but emptiness and silence, the wind left his sails.

Draco stopped and looked about him. He was back in the Academy, the never-ending corridor lined with an innumerable amount of doors, each one identical to the others. This was going to be harder than he thought. He had forgotten how hard it was to navigate the Circle Academy. Even Vash, who knew her way around a lot better than he did, had had to search for her destination as he recalled. 'In Merlin's name,' he thought, 'would it kill them to label the damned doors?'

It had been a simple plan, or so he had thought. Travel to the Academy, find their library, and dig up whatever he could on Nailar's Syndrome. Failing that, he would find someone who could tell him what he needed to know and beat it out of him should it prove necessary. Beating someone senseless right now was starting to feel like a good idea. At least he knew he could do that. The rest, the important things – he wasn't so sure of.

Thinking now, he wasn't even sure what he needed to know. What Nailar's Syndrome was? What did it do to a person? Could it be stopped? How? All good questions, all needing answers, but first, he needed directions. Where the hell was he? Where was everyone else? During his training, he'd seen dozens, no hundreds of people wandering this hallway. He hadn't cared at the time, they had their business, and he had had his. Now though, now that he wanted to find someone to help him, there was nobody in sight. Draco swore loudly at it and moved on, determined to try every door in this infernal place if he had to. He'd find somebody, or somebody would find him.

The next door was locked, and the next, and the fifteen after that. Draco swore now at each one, and was starting to consider the possibility of smashing one open with his bare hands when, quite to his surprise, one of the handles turned in his hand.

The door, identical to all the others, opened without a sound. The room beyond was warmly lit and smelled of old wood. Draco stepped cautiously inside and looked around. The room he had entered was clearly a private study, that much was obvious. The walls were lined with bookshelves, which were, in turn, filled with innumerable leather bound volumes. In one corner stood a huge carved globe on a brass stand. A large, oak-topped desk sat in the centre of the floor, with a high backed, velvet-covered chair standing behind it. An open fire burned in a grate in the far corner, the crackle of the flames was the only sound to be heard. Draco was instantly uncomfortable. This was a private room, he was sure of it, and he was trespassing. The fact that it was the only open door he'd found, and that it was an accident that he was here at all, hardly seemed relevant.

He turned to leave but stopped short. A tall, hooded figure was standing in the doorway. 'In his doorway,' Draco reminded himself. He opened his mouth to explain himself, but before he could speak, the figure lowered his hood and Draco felt all the air leave him.

"Well, well, well," Lord Menai breathed, "this is a surprise."

---------------------------------------

The rustle of feathers died away as Duncan took flight and disappeared into the night. Etean watched his shimmering form slowly blend into the background noise of London as he exhaled slowly, pushing his anger out with each breath. Anger would serve him no real purpose tonight. Duncan's actions, however brainless, had been well intentioned, Etean knew him well enough to believe that.

'Still, of all the stupid…' Etean caught that thought and squashed it. It was pointless to remain angry, what was done was done.

Duncan had given Granger the potion, the potion had worked its magic on her, and now, now her body was tearing itself apart, in some senses, quite literally.

Etean recalled the test results he had seen on Madam Pomfrey's desk. A black cell count of 80,000 parts per million…the number staggered him. He didn't want to imagine the state of her central nervous system by now. A black cell count that high could…He raised his hands and squeezed his fingers together before his eyes. Time was running out for Hermione Granger.

'I'll deal with her,' he recalled his own words and laughed. He hadn't the faintest idea how to deal with her, but, that was for another day, he reasoned. An odd smile twisted his lip, odd because he wasn't actually sure of the emotion that motivated it. It should be hate…but was it…could it be pity? Looking down at the pipe on the window ledge, he knew that he had other problems to deal with today.

It seemed that his pestering of Theo Nott, far from being merely a convenient distraction to keep the idiot off balance, had actually grown into a real opportunity for him. Etean smiled again, he'd have to thank Theo for that when he got back…if he got back.

It was by no means a forgone conclusion. After their last encounter, Etean seriously doubted if Lucius Malfoy would be in a mood for idle chitchat. There was a fair to middling chance that he would strike Etean's head clean off on sight in fact. Though he was aware of this, Etean knew he had to go. Defeated Auror faces filled his mind's eye. They were beaten, dead on their feet; it was merely a matter of time before they were dead on the ground. Etean sighed, he knew what he had to do now, he'd sat on the fence long enough in this war, and it was time to act. The Council would probably not approve, the Old Man would chastise him, the Adjutaire would go into a tailspin, but damn it all, he was sick of waiting. The line had to be drawn somewhere, and if no one else would draw it, then it was up to him.

A gentle rap on the door interrupted his thoughts. Etean turned and narrowed his focus to see who it was, and sighed in relief as he recognised Ginny's pattern. He reached out and unlocked the door, then gently pulled it open. Ginny stood on the doorstep, wringing her hands nervously. When she didn't move, Etean felt his smile widen slightly. "Well," he said, "Come in."

There was a slight hesitation from her before she stepped forward. Etean tightened his hold on the door ever so slightly, causing it to swing closed behind her. Ginny jumped and spun round at the sound of it. By the time she turned back, Etean had crossed over to her. She started again when she saw him.

"Erm…hi," she mumbled.

Etean grinned. "Hi," he said, tilting his head to the side, he added, "Are you ok?"

"What? I…Yes I'm fine," she stammered, "I…I just got back and I…" she stalled.

Etean reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. "How was it?" he asked quietly.

Ginny shuddered. "Not good," she whispered, "Blood…People were bleeding everywhere. I tried to help them but I…."

"Shhh," he whispered, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "You helped, even if you don't know it, you helped."

Ginny reached up and took hold of his hand. "Thanks," she said through a weak smile.

Etean returned her smile. "When did you get back?"

Ginny sniffed. "Not long ago," she looked over her shoulder for a moment at the door, "Mum's downstairs with Dad and the boys. She said it wasn't my place to be there," a hint of anger crept into her voice at this, "She sent me to bed."

Etean frowned. "Yet, you're here?"

"Yes," she turned back to face him, "I'm here…I…I wanted to apologise."

Etean narrowed his eyes. "For what?"

"For hitting you earlier," Ginny looked down at the floor nervously, "I shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry."

Etean absentmindedly rubbed his cheek. He nodded at her. "Apology accepted."

Ginny's head shot up. "No," she said urgently, "No, don't just accept the apology like that, damn it."

"What?" Etean shook his head, "You don't want me to accept it?"

"No…well…yes, but…"

"But?"

"But," Ginny took a breath, "I wanted to explain why I did it."

"It wasn't because I lied to you about going to Coventry?"

"No…well, yes it was, but it wasn't just that. There was more to it than just that, Robert…I wanted to tell you…"

"Ok then," Etean released her shoulder and walked over to sit on the end of the bed, "Tell me."

Ginny balled her fists by her side. She continued to stare at the floor as she spoke, "When I heard this morning that you'd gone to Coventry without…without telling me, I was furious. I couldn't believe that you'd done it to me too.'  
"Done what?"

"Left me behind!" Ginny exclaimed, raising her eyes to stare at him, "You went charging off into the middle of a war zone, and you left me behind."

"I didn't…"

"You did!" she shot at him, "You left me behind, but you took my brother with you. Have you any idea how that felt? Finding out that you and Ron were both flying right into the heart of enemy territory without so much as telling me…"

"If I had told you," Etean said quietly, "what would you have done?"

"I'd have gone with you!"

Etean's eyes slid closed. "And if I hadn't let you come?"

Ginny shook her head. "You wouldn't have been able to stop me," she held her head defiant.

Etean nodded slowly. "That's what I thought, Gin. That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to go with me to that place. I didn't want you to see it."

"Why? Because I'm not strong enough?" she shook her head and laughed, "Shit, you're just like the rest of them. You think I'm nothing but a little girl that needs to be wrapped up in cotton wool and protected from the big bad world."

"Whoa," Etean called a halt to her rant, "Stop right there. I don't…" Ginny wasn't looking at him. Etean paused and stood up. He took hold of her face and turned it gently toward him, "Gin, never think…I don't think you're like that at all. Fuck, I know how strong you are."

"And still you left me behind today…"

"Yes, I did," Etean breathed, "because, strong or not, tough or not, seeing that city today would have hurt you," he reached up and pressed his finger into her heart, "here, and I didn't want that to happen, not when I could avoid it. So be angry if you like, I don't care. If it happened tomorrow, I'd do the same thing all over again."

"And I have to just accept that do I? Just like my mother does?" Ginny shuddered, "My family, Robert, my…whole…family is in the middle of this war, and I'm scared, Robert. I love my family, all of them, and I'm scared that each and every time I say goodbye to them will be the last. I've already lost Percy, and…" she paused and sniffed, "Everyday, every single day, I wake up and I wonder if this will be the day that I hear that Bill has died…or Charlie…or my Dad."

The defeated faces of the Aurors below came back to haunt Etean at that moment. Ginny was scared, he hated that, but she was right to be scared, and that made it worse. "I…" he began.

"They go off to fight," Ginny spoke over him, "They go out and risk their lives, and they leave me behind to worry about them, and I can't bear it. Then today, you did the same thing and I…"

Etean drew her to him and folded his arms around her. "Shh, it's ok," he whispered in her ear, "I get it now, I understand, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry about me."

Ginny laughed against him. "But I did," she said, "I worried about you when you went off without me, and I worried about you because…" she tensed slightly, "because I love you, Robert."

Etean's eyes slid closed and he felt his throat clench. He'd seen it coming for a while now, but he still found himself unprepared for those three words. He was caught flatfooted in the moment. "Ginny…I…" was all he managed to say

Ginny didn't wait for him to continue. She drew back from him and looked him in the eye. "I want you do something for me," she said quickly, "Two things actually."

Etean let out a silent sigh. "Ok, what are they?"

Ginny nodded. "Well, the first thing is," her face became grave, "I want you to promise me that you won't leave me behind again, no matter what!"

Etean looked her in the eye; it was a promise that he knew he couldn't keep. Still, he nodded. "Ok, I promise."

"Thank you," Ginny leaned in and kissed him on the mouth gently.

"What's the second thing?" he asked when they parted.

Ginny smiled and rummaged about in her pockets for a moment before pulling out a crumpled scrap of parchment. Etean looked down at it and read it upside down,

'Odel Rohyen Sendere'

The English translation of the three Valkar glyphs were drawn beneath the words. Ginny held it out to him. "Tell me what this means, please?"

Etean grinned at her. "Giving up?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes," she said emphatically, "I've tried every possible meaning for it that I can think of, and apparently they're all wrong. It's driving me nuts."

Etean looked at her for a long moment, this wasn't what she wanted to talk about, but maybe this was for the best. "Ok then, tell me how you're trying…what are you doing to get the answers you're getting?"

Ginny looked down at the parchment and pointed at the symbols in turn. "Odel is greed," she said, "Rohyen is power and Sendere is fire, right?"

Etean nodded. "Those meanings fit."

"Right, and the arrangement means that Rohyen is the pivot for the whole thing?"

"Sure."

"So power changes greed, and power changes fire…powerful greed and powerful fire…but how do you say it in one phrase? And how is it a compliment?" she shot the last question.

Etean smiled. "I see your mistake," he pointed to the centre glyph, "You're right, Rohyen is the pivot, but it's a lower caste word."

"Lower caste?"

"Yes," he said. "It's all in the book. Valkar glyphs are grouped into three bands, or castes, upper, middle and lower. Rohyen comes from the lower band, Odel and Sendere are both middle caste words."

"So?" Ginny scowled at the parchment.

Etean smiled. "So, while Rohyen is the pivot, the fact that its lower caste than the others means that they pivot onto it, not the other way round. Power doesn't change greed, greed changes power."

"I don't understand."

Etean drew Ginny toward him, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Ok then, let's start again. First off, your choice of meaning for Odel doesn't really fit. It can mean greed, and often does, but I've always thought that 'possession' is a closer translation. So possession goes onto power…possession of power…"

"To have power?" her face widened in realisation, "To rule?"

Etean nodded. "Right," he smiled, "to rule."

"But," Ginny looked at the parchment again, "Where does fire come in? 'To rule with fire'?"

"Not quite. That's the thing about Valkar, its meaning is always open for debate…it's a poetic language really," he smiled at her, "You need to remember the context. It's a compliment, something I am saying to you…a name that I'm calling you. What do you call a girl who rules?"

Ginny frowned. "A queen…or a princess?"

"That's the word I'd choose. Go on…"

"A princess of fire?"

"How about…" Etean reached up and tugged a lock of her hair gently so she could see it, "My Fiery Princess?"

Ginny stared at him. "Your Fiery Princess?" she said, sounding a little amused.

Etean raised an eyebrow at her. "Too soppy for you?"

Ginny grinned. "Maybe a little."

Etean leaned down to kiss her. "Tough," he said as their lips met.

They kissed deeply for what felt like forever. Etean held Ginny to him and didn't want to let go. She kept his life simple, she took his problems and set them aside, letting him breathe, but only for a while, only when she was there. When they parted, he looked at her. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out. This wasn't their time, it was a time of war, not peace, of death, not life, a time when words were only words, and they had no meaning. The storm was upon them and they had to fight now or lose their footing.

Ginny reached up and ran a hand through his hair, bringing his focus back to her once again. "Do you want me to go?" she asked, her fingers brushing the top button on his shirt gently.

Etean looked at her. What was to come, would come in its time, he didn't have to rush to meet it. What was a moment, another breath before the storm hit?

"No," he answered her quietly.

Ginny's fingers moved and slowly started to undo his shirt as she leaned forward to kiss him. Without taking his eyes off her, Etean reached out and sealed the door.

-------------------------

Draco took an involuntary step backward as Lord Menai stepped inside the study door and closed it behind him. He moved past Draco and walked over to the desk, moving to stand behind it before looking up. To Draco's astonishment, there was no anger in his eyes; there was no readable emotion there at all. He simply looked at Draco, lacking the burning presence of their previous meeting. After a moment, he sat down, never taking his eyes off Draco.

When he finally spoke again his voice was quiet and calm. "You are…afraid of me, yes?"

It was a dangerous question, and Draco didn't want to answer truthfully. Yet, the idea of lying never even entered his mind. "Yes, I am," he said before he knew what he was doing.

Lord Menai nodded. "I see," he shuffled his seat closer to the desk and then leaned back as though studying Draco very closely indeed, "I can understand your fear, Draco, I really can. After all, here I find you, alone and uninvited within the walls of the Academy, and in my office no less?"

Draco shuddered at the sheer calmness of his tone. His mind scrambled for a point to argue. "I wasn't aware, my lord," he said, injecting a slight sneer into his voice, "that I needed any invitation to enter the Academy," he struggled to keep his voice even, "I am a member of the Circle, am I not?"

Whether Menai was aware of the false bravado in Draco's voice, his reaction didn't show it. "You are," he said coolly, "but even members normally do not endanger exposing the Academy by entering it without a reason."

"I have a reason," Draco blurted out hastily, "but," he paused, remembering where he was, "I'm sorry that I wound up in your office, my lord…but I was looking for…"

"An open door?" Menai's face broke into a smile, "and mine simply presented itself?"

Draco tensed as he realised that Menai was reading his thoughts just as Etean did so often. It also occurred to him that, while he had become accustomed to Etean reading his mind whenever he damn well liked, the idea of Menai doing it seemed wrong. Without knowing why, Draco felt his mind tense and draw in on itself. He continued to watch Menai watching him.

"You have a reason you say?" Menai's expression didn't change, "Pray tell me…what is it?"

'He's in your head,' Draco told himself, 'you can't keep him out. Hell, he can probably even hear you making this decision. You may as well be honest…you aren't doing anything wrong.'

"I came here seeking information," he said simply, deciding that Menai could drag the details if he wanted, but he would have to make the effort. "I'm trying to help…a friend."

"Indeed," Menai said slowly, "A noble cause and who am I to stand in your way?" He pointed to the door and then turned his attention to one of his desk drawers, drawing a small ledger from within it and opening it out. Draco stood in place, unsure of where he was supposed to go.

Menai looked up, and narrowed his eyes slightly. "Was there something else you needed?"

Draco thought about it for a moment, and then decided to keep it simple. "I was looking for the library, my lord."

"The library?" Menai frowned slightly, "You mean the Archive, do you not?"

'Library…Archive…whatever!' he ranted inside his skull. "Yes, my lord, the Archive. Where is it?"

"It is where it has been for the last ten centuries, Draco, about a mile beneath your feet."

Draco stared at the floor. "What?"

Menai sighed. "I see," he said, abandoning his notebook and turning his attention to Draco once again, "May I assume that Lord Etean never mentioned the Archive to you?"

"No," Draco shook his head, still baffled, "Never."

Menai sat back and muttered something under his breath that sounded strangely like 'typical'.

Lord Menai shook his head. "The Archives of the Circle, Draco," he said in a rather bored voice, "are sealed and isolated from all external influence, and have been for centuries."

"Sealed? But…why?"

Menai's face hardened slightly. "The decision was not yours to make, nor is it yours now to question," Menai snapped, "It is, simply because it is." Menai stopped speaking and rested his hand on his head for a moment, "You will have to excuse me, Draco, I have no desire to be rude. This has been a most trying day indeed."

"You can say that again," Draco replied, a little louder than he intended to.

"Excuse me?" Menai asked.

"Forgive me, my lord," Draco said quickly, "I just meant that…that, what with the death of Minister Fudge and all, I understand how this day would be tiring to someone like…someone in your position."

"I see," Menai said quietly, "Yes," he added slowly, "The Minister's death was…unfortunate."

"Yes," Draco said, fighting the urge to frown.

Menai shook himself suddenly. "Well then," he said brightly, "you wished to consult the archives, did you not?" Draco nodded, "Very well then."

Menai drew his hand from his sleeve and pressed his thumb hard into the centre of the ring he wore on his middle finger. Draco looked at it as it glowed briefly from within. It reminded him of Etean's ring, except that where Etean's ring bore an engraved eagle's head, this ring was embossed with the unmistakable image of a horse, standing rampant on its hind legs. The image was familiar to Draco, but he didn't have time to place it. Seconds after the glow had faded from Menai's ring, Draco was forced to leap to his right as the shadowy figure of a ghost began to rise silently out of the floor. Draco stood back in awe as the spectre of a man, over seven feet tall and dressed in the other worldly remains of a Circle cloak appeared beside, and then towered above him. He could see no face beneath its hood, nothing except a black void.

The ghost turned to face Lord Menai and bowed. "My lord," its voice was cold and dead, but was loaded with reverence, "for what service have I been summoned?"

"Librarian," Menai addressed it, before pointing at Draco, "A member requires some information from the Archive."

The Librarian turned silently and nodded at Draco. "Then why does he not summon me himself?"

"I…" Draco didn't know what to say, he had never been scared of a ghost before.

"That is of no concern," Menai answered for Draco, then turned to him, "You need only ask for what you require, Draco."

Draco swallowed and tried to push his fear down. He told himself that it was just a ghost, that it couldn't hurt him. Still, he was in a tough spot, he had to scramble to assemble his thoughts before he could answer. "Nailar's Syndrome," he said finally, glancing at Menai to gauge his reaction, if any.

There was none, Menai merely nodded turned back to the librarian. "Draco Malfoy requires any information regarding this…" he paused and looked at Draco for a moment, "Disease?" Draco nodded, "…this disease, thank you."

The Librarian nodded and sank once again into the floor. Once he was gone, Menai turned back to Draco. "It shouldn't take him long to find what you seek. The Archive is vast, but there isn't an entity in the world that knows it better than the Librarian." Menai drew his wand from his pocket and waved it almost casually, conjuring up a chair beside Draco, "You may as well wait here," he said, then, "Have a seat," he added when Draco didn't move.

Draco sat down, trying not to look awkward. He didn't know why really, but being in the company of Lord Menai had him on edge. There wasn't any reason for it, not really. Ok, Etean didn't like him, but that didn't mean that he was any threat.

"Thank you," he remembered to say at last.

Menai looked at him for a moment, and then said, "Actually, I am somewhat glad to have this opportunity to talk to you."

This was not what Draco had been expecting to hear. "You are, my lord?"

"Yes, but," Menai hesitated and looked around the room suspiciously, "but first, it is better that we be on equal footing." He reached into his robes and took out a small, wooden box, which he set carefully onto the desk. Curious, Draco watched intently as he opened it, and then he slammed his eyes shut as a sudden blinding light filled the room, accompanied by an ear splitting shriek. Even with his eyes closed, the light seared into his brain while the sound roared in his ears so loudly that Draco couldn't even hear the scream of agony that he knew he had just uttered.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the noise died away. Draco opened his eyes and blinked hard as he tried to force the shape of Lord Menai before him into focus. Gradually the edges of things returned and he managed to stop the room from spinning.

Wiping his eyes, he looked at the desk. A small glowing crystal, set into a golden mounting, was sitting now atop the wooden box. It gave off an eerie, multi-coloured light that seemed to hover in the air, barely noticeable. The sound it had made was still there too, Draco realised, it was just much quieter now, remaining just on the edge of Draco's awareness.

"What is that?" he asked, dislodging his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"It is called a Ventracha…literally translated, a void crystal. An odd name, seeing as how it is anything but that in reality."

"What…What did it do to me?"

Menai looked at him. "To you? Nothing. Tell me, can you read my thoughts?"

Draco drew himself up suddenly. "My lord, I wasn't trying to…"

"No," Menai waved him off, "I was not accusing you of anything, merely enquiring, _can_ you read my thoughts now? Try…"

Draco frowned, he didn't follow what Menai was trying to achieve, but he guessed he should do as he was told. Who knew what other little toys Menai had on his person? Draco stared at Menai for a moment, and then reached out to him, just as he had done on countless occasions before. No sooner had he pressed his mind outward the merest fraction, than the blinding light from the crystal returned, along with the piercing sound. Instinctively Draco drew himself inward, blocking out the noise and the light. "I…can't," he said.

"Precisely," Menai smiled at him, gesturing to the crystal, "A handy little thing, this," he said, "By it's very nature it blocks Ethereal signals and causes enough noise in the world around it so as to totally blind anyone trained in the ways of the Circle. In a world where thoughts are not secure, it helps to have a little privacy now and then," a small smile caught Menai's lip, but he shook it off, "This will allow us to speak plainly, without the need to hide our thoughts from one another…an equal footing, just as I said."

Draco blinked at him, an equal footing? Lord Menai wanted an equal footing with him? He shrugged. "Ok."

Menai's smile remained. "Now then, I could begin here with a lot of preamble and small-talk, but I don't think that either of us has the time for such pleasantries tonight, do you?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but decided that a headshake would suffice.

"Good," Menai answered, "So let me get straight to the point then. I want to talk to you about Robert Etean."

'Oh no!' Draco sighed internally. This was all he needed, to be drawn into some messed up political game between Etean and his favourite enemy. His eyes moved briefly to the floor, willing the Librarian to return and free him from this position. But, when no ghostly figures made themselves known, he was forced to turn back to the conversation.

"Etean?" Draco frowned, feigning confusion to buy time, "what about him?"

"Simple really," Menai leaned forward, "Do you trust him?"

"What do you mean, do I trust him?"

"The question is rather straightforward, Draco," Menai answered.

Draco shrugged. "Well," he said, "I don't see how that matters really," he said.

"I would have thought," said Menai, "that it matters quite a bit, or rather it should to you. He is the person that you are currently dependent on for your continued existence, is he not?"

"My continued existence?" Draco sneered, "What is that? A joke?"

"I fail to see the humour…"

"And I fail to see the point," Draco snapped, then he remembered himself, "I'm…sorry, my lord. I meant no disrespect, but, as you said, this has been a long day and I have a lot on my mind right now so you'll just have to forgive me." He took a breath to steady himself. "The fact is, however, that you and I both know just how slim my chances are for having a continued existence once this whole mess is done with. Either Voldemort kills me and Ascends, or I die bringing him down, either way, I die," Draco stood up and turned to face the wall.

"I've known that for a long time," he continued, "and I've accepted it as best I can. I made a choice to do this, the first choice I have ever made for myself, and I'm sticking to it. So," he turned back to face Lord Menai, "you see it doesn't matter whether I trust Etean or not, it's irrelevant to me."

"And you haven't even given a single moment to considering Etean's motives in all of this?"

"I know he wants to see Voldemort destroyed," Draco answered, "isn't that enough?"

"For the moment perhaps, but," Menai's face slackened, "What about later?"

"Later?"

"Yes, later, after The Dark Lord is gone. What do you think Etean's goals will be then?"

Draco dropped into the chair again. "What I think doesn't matter, my lord," he said slowly, "I'll be dead by then, so what do I care?"

Menai was silent for a while, then he let out a low laugh. Draco gave him a quizzical look, to which he responded, "Thank you, Draco."

"Thank me?" Draco frowned, "For what?"

"For making some things so clear to me," said Menai, "For showing me just how good Robert Etean really is. I must admit," he said, shaking his head slowly, "that until quite recently, I truly believed that the boy was little more than an arrogant pain in the neck, an annoyance that refused to go away. Now, however, I know better."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, wondering where all this was going.

Menai laughed briefly once more. "You don't see it of course, and I don't suppose I should be surprised. How could a mere boy see what the best of the Circle has missed?"

That made Draco's teeth itch. "A mere boy?"

Menai ignored his question. "Just what has Etean told you about our current situation?"

Draco was lost once more. "He tells me the truth, I suppose," he answered, opting for the truth. "He tells me that the Aurors are losing the war despite your best efforts to keep them one step ahead of the enemy. He told me that the apparently random Death Eater attacks seemed to be somehow targeting Circle resources, and that, because of this apparent breach of security, the Council has decided to bury its head in the sand. They even went so far as to order the termination of Etean's current mission, or rather," he added, putting on a humourless smile, "the termination of me!" Draco folded his arms across his chest and stared at Menai. "Did I leave anything out?'

"Believe it or not, Draco," Menai answered without missing a beat, "You have," he stood and walked over to the globe in the corner and absent-mindedly began to turn it with his fingers. Draco waited in silence, broken only by the slight squeak of a less than perfectly oiled washer somewhere in the mechanism of the globe. "Everything you said is true, Draco," Menai said suddenly, "All of it, with the exception of what you said about the Council 'burying our heads in the sand'," he turned his face, now showing a trace of the cold fire that Draco remembered, "We haven't done anything of the sort."

"But…"

"We have simply," Menai continued in a slightly raised voice, "begun to explore our…other options."

"Other options?" Draco spat at him, "You mean surrender?"

"Bah, open your eyes boy!" Menai roared suddenly, "The world is not built of absolutes, it is not a perfect partition of black and white. Grey is everywhere, and that is where we operate. By, other options, I meant just that. There is more than one way to fight a war. We have contingency plans, we always do. The Council perceived the apparent failure of one strategy, and chose another, but we never," he inclined his head and stared Draco in the eye, "Never ordered your death, Draco."

Draco scoffed. "That isn't how Etean tells it."

"And you believe him?"

Draco was on the spot, Menai was baiting him and he knew it. The correct course would be to back down, to play with the answer and not commit himself, at least, not until he figured out what kind of game Menai was playing. Hermione's situation, however, had his nerves raw and his temper, never far from the surface these days, boiled over on him.

"Yes," he shouted, leaping to his feet in rage, "I believe him. Why wouldn't I? He's the one that took it on himself to train me, he's the one who saved my life when some people," he jabbed a finger at Menai's chest, "Some people in this room, my lord, wanted to hand me over to Voldemort. He's the reason that I have what little chance that I do have to survive this war in one piece, so yes, I believe him," Draco spread his arms wide, "He's always been straight with me, told me the truth, even when I would have been better off not knowing."

Menai didn't move, instead he smiled. "Is that so?" he breathed, "Tell me, would you like a drink?"

"I…what?" Draco asked, bewildered.

"A drink," Menai said calmly, "Things seem to have become a little heated in here, perhaps something to steady the nerves?"

Draco scoffed and shook his head. "Sure, why not? Something strong!"

Menai inclined his head. "Indeed." He raised his hand and pressed his ring again. Draco frowned at that, surely he could just use his wand instead of showing off his blasted ring. He turned to look once more at the floor, mentally imploring the Librarian to return.

There was a small knock at the door behind him. "Come," Menai called.

Draco heard the lock click. He turned on his heel to see the newcomer. The first thing he saw was a tray carrying a carafe of liquor and two glasses already filled with ice. Absently, Draco's eyes moved up from the tray to look at the face of the bearer.

"No fucking way!" he exclaimed, leaping back and knocking his chair over in the process. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. His mind simply refused to accept what his eyes were telling him was there before him.

Menai passed no comment about Draco's all too apparent surprise. Instead he pointed to the desk and nodded to the tray bearer. "Thank you, Antoine!"

----------------------------------

Etean finished buttoning his shirt and reached for his cloak in total silence. Ginny lay motionless in the bed, wrapped in the blanket, looking totally contented. A faint smile crossed Etean's lips for a moment as he looked down at her, but it didn't last long. He couldn't avoid the issue any longer, he had work to do and it was time he did it. His uncertainty remained, just as he knew it would, but he also knew that it wouldn't change matters. There could be no more delay, he had stood on the banks of this river for too long as it was. The decision was made, the order given, his feet were wet and, as a greater man than him once said, the die was cast.

With a last lingering look at peace, Etean walked to the window and prepared his mind for war. He raised the pipe from the window sill and held it at eye level for a moment,

"Here goes," he breathed, and reached out to take hold of the portkey.

The familiar yank behind his naval was followed by the sudden blast of wind across his face as he was pulled forward at an immeasurable rate. The journey lasted only a few seconds before he found himself on solid ground once more. His knees buckled slightly as he landed, but he recovered himself.

It was dark. He noticed the smell almost immediately, a deep stench of rotting meat. It nauseated him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he turned. Ignoring the persistent pain in his temples, Etean extended himself to read his surroundings while his mundane senses struggled to acclimatise. The air was moving, a warm breeze was blowing toward him from the direction he now faced. His senses grew stronger, enough for him to recognise the short passageway he had landed in, and the doorway beyond.

The smell grew more intense as he moved forward. Unsure of what awaited him, Etean kept his senses tensed close to him, ready to react to any threat that may appear.

The doorway he had seen turned out to be an archway, which opened onto a broad courtyard that had clearly seen better days. The moonlight here gave more than enough light for Etean to see the scattered debris, and, he noted unhappily, what appeared to be bones. Some of them were huge, Etean couldn't begin to guess what animal they had been a part of. Danger registered, massive and close, Etean pushed himself out farther and tried to localise it. The threat seemed to surround him, pouring out of the walls and rising from the very floor. He took a step forward, positioning himself just outside the archway and looked around, listening for movement.

The walls surrounding the courtyard were patterned with light and shadow, and they seemed oddly familiar. He concentrated on the design of the architecture, following the lines of the windows. His eyes narrowed in recognition just as his widening senses flared white hot and locked onto the source of the threat he was feeling.

Etean leapt forward as fast as his body could move, slowing time as he did. He landed and turned in time to see the snout and head of a dragon plough into the very cobbles on which he had been standing moments before. The beast's head began to withdraw. Etean's temples flared in pain and he released his hold on time.

The dragon reared its head and shook off the lingering pieces of stone from its muzzle. Etean took a good look at it, searching for a weakness, an injury to exploit, but saw none worth noting. He recognised the beast now, and he knew where he was, but his mind shifted those pieces of information aside to be dealt with later.

'If I have a later,' he thought briefly.

The dragon reared its head and roared, sending gouts of flame from its nostrils. The light illuminated Etean's surroundings. He scanned the area rapidly in search of some cover, but none presented itself. At the far side of the courtyard, some fifty feet away, a large boulder lay propped against the wall. Etean didn't consider it for more than a heartbeat, it may as well be miles away, and even if he got there, he'd be trapped with no retreat. That would mean he'd be barbecued in short order.

The dragon lowered its head and began scanning the ground for Etean. He dropped low behind a charred and rotting carcass that he thought may once have been a cow, but he wasn't sure, and touched his cloak just long enough to tell it to hide him from sight. His mind spun into overdrive. He knew he couldn't take that thing one on one. On a good day, and with a smaller, less enraged dragon, he might try, but this was not a good day. He had to get away, but how? He looked up at the overcast sky. He could fly out. Dragon's had bad eyesight at the best of times, and this one had just had a face full of cobbles. The odds of it hitting an eagle on the wing were slim. But, Etean realised, the odds of it hitting an eagle as it took off were a good bit higher. He'd be visible and therefore vulnerable as he took to the wing. As it stood, Etean gave himself a fifty – fifty chance of getting out in one piece, so that option was out.

'Think Etean!' he told himself.

He was safe where he was for the moment. The dragon wouldn't be able to find him from up there, it was too far away and he was invisible. However, invisible was not un-smellable, and the thing wouldn't stay up there. Once it came down from its perch, it would just be a matter of time before it sniffed him out. He thought about running. His cloak would hide him from sight; but dragon ears were a damned sight better than their eyes. If he ran, it would surely hear his footsteps and probably fry the whole courtyard to get him. It would likely do that anyway if it got frustrated.

There was a deafening crash of masonry behind him. 'Damn,' he swore to himself, 'It's getting impatient already…what the hell is its rush?'

His eyes scanned the courtyard in desperation once again, searching for a way out. He adjusted his position and concentrated on the Dragon, feeling its presence and its movement. His foot slipped from under him and kicked against a small rock. In a second, the dragon was turning toward him. Etean watched the rock skip away and swore at it under his breath. After all he had been through, a stone was to be his undoing?

A stone!

The idea detonated in his mind. To anyone else, it would have been madness. Throwing stones at a full-grown dragon? It was insane. Etean smiled however, he had a knack for insane ideas. He also knew one weak spot that all dragons possessed, though he had never heard of anyone ever actually managing to take advantage of it.

Ignoring that less than cheerful bit of trivia for the moment, Etean got on with things. He felt the dragon turn fully toward him, still slightly unsure of its prey's location. That would change soon enough. It was advancing now, soon it would smell him, and then it would cook him.

'Fuck that!'

Etean looked around the courtyard. A scattering of large boulders lay here and there. His gaze settled on several, each more than a foot in diameter, and he took note of their position.

The Dragon roared behind him. Etean frowned, it shouldn't do that, not unless…He leaned out of his hiding place and scanned the scene behind him. The dragon had reared up onto its hind legs and had turned to face one of the buildings. Etean followed its gaze and stared. There, illuminated from behind by the light from within the building as they stood on a third storey balcony, were three dark figures. He couldn't see their faces, but he could see the white flash of blonde hair surrounding the head of the central figure like some spectral crown.

"Lucius…" he breathed, narrowing his eyes slightly. This was a set up!

The dragon roared and looked as though it was about to incinerate the Death Eaters, but Lucius had other ideas. Raising his wand, and waiting only a moment for his friends to do likewise, he cast a spell at the beast. His enchantment, joined by those from the other Death Eaters hit the dragon square on its snout. The beast reeled as if it had been stung. Etean knew that it couldn't have been severely hurt, dragon hide was all but impervious to magic, but the creature seemed to capitulate all the same.

With an ear splitting roar, it dropped to the courtyard floor once more and started its search for Etean.

Etean scowled and dropped into hiding again. This didn't make sense. He knew that he had pissed Lucius off something awful at their last meeting, that had been his intention at the time after all, but he didn't think that Lucius had brought him all this way just to watch him die. Still, he had been wrong before.

Oddly enough, realising that he had an audience seemed to spur Etean into action. Lucius wanted him dead eh? 'Right then, lets see about that!'

Etean touched his cloak and became visible again, and then, settling his mind on his intentions, he stood up and stepped into the open.

The dragon's head snapped up instantly. For a moment it just stood there, watching him. Etean watched it back. No doubt the thing was confused. It was more used to its meals running away than standing their ground. Etean watched it move. He saw the way its muscles rippled beneath its hide and swallowed hard. He set his jaw and extended himself, reaching out to the nearest of the boulders he had selected. His mind found the stone and folded around it for a moment before pulling taught and hurling the boulder at the dragon. The stone shot over Etean's shoulder and shattered off the dragon's chest plate. The beast looked merely confused. Certainly it was far from hurt. This, again, was to be expected. A dragon's natural armour was roughly three inches thick at the chest. That rock couldn't have done more than tickle the thing. Etean didn't wait for it to realise this, however, instead he took hold of another boulder and tossed it, this time at the beast's flank.

The dragon spun to face its new attacker, only to have Etean's third boulder collide with, and shatter against, the back of its head. As it spun back, Etean saw the telltale curl of vapour from its mouth. It was getting mad, and, standing still in the open as he was, Etean was a perfect target. He was well within flaming range. Normally in this situation, however, the dragon's instinct would make it tend toward the simpler approach of eating him whole, rather than frying him.

That was unless it got really mad first.

Two more boulders sandwiched the dragon's head as it rounded once again on Etean. Its lip twitched, and a curl of flame lit the air around the things skull like a fiery mane.

Pain ripped at the core of Etean's brain once again, causing his next boulder to fly high and miss its target. 'Come on you fuck,' Etean goaded it inside his head as he sent yet another boulder at its head, 'fry me!' He couldn't keep this up, the thing had to strike soon or it was over.

Dragon's had a few weaknesses, bad eyes, the lack of speed and agility on the ground, but in terms of a genuine physical vulnerability, Etean knew of only one, though exploiting it was next to impossible. Even as he stood there, intentionally goading a full grown dragon into flaming him, he could think of nobody, ever, who had tried what he was about to do and lived to tell of it. It was, in a word, insanity.

'Still,' he reminded himself, 'you don't have a better idea right now.'

Finally losing its temper, the dragon reared back, preparing to incinerate Etean where he stood. Etean prepared himself; his mind reached out and touched the dragon's snout. 'This,' Etean thought as he prepared to haul on the fabric of time once again, 'is really going to hurt!'

The dragon's head came forward. Its mouth opened wide as it prepared to breathe flame. Etean waited until the last moment, when he could see flame glands in its mouth tense and start to glow, before he acted.

With mind ripping effort, Etean pressed out and slowed time around him to a crawl. Now the beast's head hung all but frozen, its mouth wide open, exposing the back of its throat to him. There, just about the twin flame glands that were even now preparing to incinerate him, Etean could see the thin plate of bone that lined the roof of the dragon's mouth, the one weak point that this flying incinerator possessed. Etean extended his arm toward the creature. He drew a breath and bellowed,

"REDUCTO!"

Energy crackled on his fingertips. In an instant, it had formed itself into a spell and launched at the dragon. As the spell neared its target, Etean released his hold on time in favour of a physical grip on the dragon's head. He heaved with all his might as his spell connected with the dragon's exposed palette and detonated, shattering bone and vaporising sinew as it burned its way up and into the beast's brain.

Etean heaved harder at the head. His body weighing a lot less than the dragon's, the net result was that he was himself hurled forward and upward into the air, just as the dragon belched out the flame that had been meant to roast him alive.

Etean's foot touched down on the dying dragon's head and he pushed off, releasing his grip on the beast for a stronger one on the balcony rail ahead of him. The dragon fell into its death throws unheeded beneath him. The figures of Lucius Malfoy and his companions started in fright, but they didn't have time to react before Etean landed beside them. He reached out with his mind and touched the minds of the two guards, forcefully causing their neurons to misfire. The two men slumped and fell without a sound as though they had simply been switched off, leaving Etean alone with a visibly startled Lucius Malfoy. He took a single step forward, dizzy from the pain that now seared his temples, but he managed not to show it as he sent a charge of power through his eyes.

"Hello Lucius," he said. "We meet again!"

-----------------------------------

Antoine completely ignored Draco as he entered the room. Draco stared in utter disbelief as the man he'd killed just strolled from the doorway to the desk in silence. The only sounds in the room were the clink of the glasses against one another and the gentle squeak of the globe as Menai turned it over and over.

"Just there, Antoine," he said calmly as Antoine set the tray down and then turned to face him.

"Will there be anything else, my lord?" he said in a deep, throaty voice. It occurred to Draco that this was the first time he had ever heard the man speak.

"No," Menai waved him off, "that will be all, thank you."

Antoine bowed low and then withdrew. Draco watched every step he made, seeking proof that he was wrong, that this man wasn't the same one he had… He couldn't be the same man, it just wasn't possible, and yet…yet he was. That face was burned into Draco's mind, every pore, every unshaven hair of his beard. It was the same man, there could be no mistaking him.

There was a chink of glass as Menai poured out two generous measures of the amber liquid. He set one down on the side nearest to Draco, and lifted the second to his lips. Draco turned from the door to stare first at the glass, and then at Menai, struggling to hold his mind together. What the hell was going on? Menai simply looked at him, offering no explanations.

Draco needed answers, needed them with his whole being. First though, he found that he couldn't even formulate the questions. He tried to speak, but no words came. He tried again. "That…that man…" he managed to say.

"Is called Antoine," Menai lowered his head and looked Draco in the eye curiously, "You've met him before?"

"Met…met him?" Draco reached for balance and just barely managed to catch the edge of the desk on the second try, "I…I killed him."

"Killed him?" Menai's voice remained calm despite the serious topic, "You killed Antoine?"

"Yes…I pulled his mind apart…shattered it like it was nothing…but it wasn't my fault," he added quickly, "It was…something that Etean made me do so I'd learn the extent of my power."

"The Final Test," Menai nodded, "I know it, though I wasn't aware that you had faced it yet. So," he paused, "Etean chose Antoine's image for the test? Interesting…"

Draco heard the words and they jarred in his mind. "Antoine's image? What? Antoine…"

"Is dead, Draco," Menai's voice remained calm, "He died almost fourteen years ago. What you saw just now was an image of the man he was, nothing more."

"An image of…" Draco shook his head hard, hoping to jar some sense out of all this, "Dead? You mean he was a ghost?"

"No," Menai chuckled, "Could a ghost open that door? Could a mere ghost have carried a tray and set it on my desk? No, Draco, that was not a ghost," Menai pointed to the glass on the desk, "Have a drink," he said, "you look like you need it."

Draco shook his head. "No," he said, edging toward blind panic, "I need answers. What the hell is going on here?"

Menai took up his glass and took a sip. "Ok then, Draco, let us explore events," he set the glass down and returned to the globe, "You believe that, as a part of your Final Test, Etean wheeled Antoine, a fit, healthy and above all, living member of The Circle into a room with you and had you kill him?"

"Well," Draco nodded, "yes!"

"And you believe that every single person who joins The Circle does this…"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but then he thought about it. It didn't make sense when you put it like that, every new member killing another? It was nonsense, it couldn't work, but, "Then," he said aloud, "who…or what did I…what is going on here?"

Menai paused before he spoke. "Perhaps," he said in a contemplative voice, "perhaps this will make things clear to you."

Menai raised his hand and for the third time he pressed his thumb against his silver ring. The ring glowed briefly and, after a moment of silence, there was a quiet knock at the door.

"Open it," Menai ordered.

Draco stared at the door, more than a little afraid as to what he would find on the other side. Shaking slightly, though trying not to show it, he stepped forward and took hold of the handle. Draco opened the door and stepped backward in one quick motion before he had so much as glanced at who or what was standing outside. When he did, he couldn't believe his eyes.

Standing in the doorway, still as a carved statue, stood a physical impossibility.

"Draco Malfoy," said Lord Menai casually, "Meet Draco Malfoy."

Draco stared. The…whatever it was that was standing before him…looked exactly like him in every respect, right down to his clothing. Only for the fact that the thing's hair was still white-blonde and not jet-black as Draco's was, he would have been sure that he was looking into a mirror. For a moment, Draco didn't believe his eyes. This had to be a trick, a spell Menai had cast to fool him, but, just as he was about ready to draw his wand and blow whatever it was to oblivion, then the thing spoke.

"How may I be of service, my lord?" it said, addressing Draco directly in his own voice.

Menai chuckled again. "That will be all, Draco," he said, "You may go."

The image of Draco turned its head slightly toward Menai and nodded. Then, as Draco continued to stare in stunned disbelief, the image faded away in a wash of black light. Menai moved behind his desk, reminding Draco of his presence.

Without pause for thought, and not caring that it was probably a very stupid thing to do, Draco rounded on him and drew his wand.

"Right," he said sharply, taking a step toward the Lord of the Circle, "I'm sick of these games. I want to know just what the hell that thing was and I want to know right now," he paused just long enough to aim his wand, "I want you to tell me or, by Merlin's beard, I will blow your head off, my lord."

Menai didn't react. He didn't cower and shrink away, even as the tip of Draco's wand glowed red with his rage. Draco stared at Menai down the length of his wand, struggling to hold his pose without flinching.

The door behind Draco slammed shut suddenly, making him jump. Before he could stop himself, he had turned his head round. The instant he saw the deserted room behind him, Draco realised his mistake. His muscles tensed and he prepared himself for the attack that was to come. No attack came. Instead Draco's ears registered a quiet squeaking sound. He turned back to the desk to see that Menai had returned to his globe and was once more twirling it idly with his free hand.

After a moment of silence, Draco lowered his wand. This appeared to be what Menai was waiting for.

"Tantrum over?" he asked, looking round. "Good!" He turned and walked back to his desk. "Now then," he said, sitting down, "We can continue our discussion. You have asked a fair question, and you will get your answer, Draco. I will insist, however, that you remain calm. We shall conduct this conversation as civilised adults or not at all." There was a hint of menace in his voice at this. Draco stared for a second, and then nodded his assent. Menai gestured to the as yet untouched glass on the desk and Draco reached for it, not bothering now to hide the tremble in his fingers.

He raised the glass to his lips and sipped, feeling the liquor inside burn its way down his throat and light a warm fire in his belly. The sensation seemed to clear his head slightly and he felt some of his self-control return.

"Better?" Menai asked.

Draco nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Menai smiled slightly. "Alright then," he cleared his throat, "What you saw a moment ago was, as I have already said, an image of a real person, in this case, you. Just as with the image of Antoine you saw before it, that image was generated on demand by the Academy."

"The Academy?" Draco asked.

"Indeed," Menai raised his arm and gestured to the room around him, "You are aware that this place is far more than what it appears, that the walls are more than mere stone?" Draco gave a little nod, which Menai returned, "The magic that is imprinted within the walls of this place can do many things. You have noticed no doubt that the corridor seems to have no ending, and that rooms have a rather annoying tendency to relocate themselves?"

"I did notice," lied Draco, "something like that, yes."

"I'm sure you did," Menai paused to take a drink, "The Academy is a bizarre and wonderful place. In addition to its less than concrete layout, the spells in the walls can be used to generate images such as the ones you just saw."

"You can create people?" Draco asked, astonished.

Menai openly laughed at this. "Heavens no," he shook his head, "They are far from people. They have no will, no freedom of thought. They are created with a purpose in mind, and they carry out that purpose. You saw yourself that the image of you addressed _you_ as lord?" Draco nodded, "Yes," Menai continued, "I created it as a blank slate, merely as an example for you. It knew nothing other than that it was created to obey Lord Menai. It did not know who I was, or even who it was, it didn't recognise you in anyway as you did it."

"I had no idea…Etean never…"

"Never told you about that particular aspect of this place?" Menai asked, Draco could only nod in reply. "I understand your confusion, Draco. It has always been my belief that new members should be told more about the Academy, seeing as how it is their home during their training. There have been…incidents in the past where people have given themselves a nasty shock, accidentally and often unconsciously conjuring up the image of a loved one…a deceased parent for example.

"It is the belief of the Council, however, that such things should be learned by each individual on their own terms, they preach that often times, no lesson is the best lesson of all…Nonsense, I agree," he added, seeing Draco's blank look.

Draco shook himself, and then took another drink from his glass. He grimaced, but it wasn't the whiskey in the glass that caused it. The idea that an image, a perfect copy of him, could be created with such ease and set to whatever purpose the creator desired had left a very bad taste in his mouth.

"I know what you're thinking," Menai said.

Draco's eyes darted briefly to the small crystal on the desk. He could still hear the noise it made, blocking all possible Ethereal contact. 'You do?' he thought, testing Menai.

Menai smiled. "I don't need to hear your thoughts to know them, Draco" he said, "Right now, you are imagining all of the horrible things that someone with the power to create such an image of you could do. You are right, of course, to wonder. Used incorrectly, such a power could easily land a person in prison, or worse, but fear not. Just as the Academy creates those images, so too does it sustain them. Only here, only within these walls do they have substance. Outside they cannot exist."

All that Draco could say was, "Oh." His knees were shaking hard now. He set his glass down and reached for the chair that still lay beside him. As he righted the chair, an idea hit him so suddenly that he nearly sprained a muscle in his back as he tensed.

"But then," he stammered, "M…my…the test…Antoine…I killed…"

"Nothing more than a figment of Etean's imagination, made manifest for that very purpose."

Draco sagged, landing hard on the chair. He felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his heart. A weight that he had long forgotten that he was even carrying. He wasn't a murderer, he wasn't guilty of any such crime. Unconsciously, his hand raised and he clasped the silver chain about his neck between shaking fingers. It had been a trick? But why? Etean's idea of a sick joke maybe?

"So then," Menai's face was stern, "Tell me, do you still trust Robert Etean?"

-----------------------------------

Lucius stepped backward, passing through the balcony doors and coming to a halt on the far side. He stared intently at Etean as he followed him inside. Etean stared back at him, watching for the first sign of a threat. Lucius' wand was still in his hand, which remained at his side.

"Should I prepare to defend myself?" Lucius said with a sneer. "Not that I should I suppose. I can't pretend to offer the same challenge as a dragon, but I'm sure I could provide you with some amusement."

Etean sent another flash of power through his eyes as he drew himself upright. "I take it I have you to thank for the welcome?" he asked dryly, "It was far from your best in terms of hospitality."

"My apologies," Lucius' sneer remained, "I will try to do better in the future, my lord."

"I'm sure you will." Etean had to force himself not to show the blazing pain inside his head now. His felt as though his skull were tearing itself apart.

Lucius gestured with his wand. "So then, my lord," he said softly, "Do I need this, or not?"

"Your needs, Lucius, are not my concern, do as you will." Etean turned and walked round Lucius to enter the room fully. It was an empty chamber, totally devoid of any decoration. It may have once served as an office, or perhaps even a meeting room, but no longer. The floor was smeared with black blood and scattered, fetid rags were piled in the corners and by the single door that opened into the rest of the building. Whatever it may have been, the smell told Etean that this place was a recently vacated dementor nest. Etean could still feel the chill in the air, but it was almost welcome in comparison to the furnace he had just escaped. "I must say, Lucius," he said over his shoulder, "your new accommodations are a match for your manners."

Etean felt a wave of annoyance from Lucius, but it didn't carry into his voice. "A temporary situation, my lord, I assure you."

"As you say," Etean turned back to face him and drew his nose up in disgust, "but let us dispense with such nonsense, Lucius, and get down to business. I have no desire to remain here a moment longer than is absolutely necessary."

Lucius inclined his head. "As you wish, my lord, business it is. Do you wish to start?"

Etean narrowed his eyes momentarily. "Oh I think, Lucius, that you should start. I am here at your…ahem…invitation after all."

"An invitation, my lord, that was issued after we received several requests from you for a meeting."

"I see," Etean smiled, "So Theo's messages did get through after all. I was beginning to wonder if he had actually sent them."

"Oh, he sent them, my lord, he sent them and we got them. I can only offer my apologies for the delay in our response, but," he smiled sarcastically, "we have been rather busy of late."

"That you have," Etean replied. "Very busy if my information is accurate."

"Oh, I am sure that it is accurate, my lord, I would expect no less. So," Lucius joined his hands at the small of his back, and began to pace, "now that we have dispensed with how it was that you came to be here, shall we progress to what it is that you came here for?"

Etean nodded. "As you wish," he said, and then fell silent and waited for Lucius to fill in the blank for himself.

"May I assume," said Lucius after a very pregnant pause, "that you are here because you have reconsidered the offer I made on behalf of my master when last we spoke?"

"You mean when you broke into my home and threatened my life unless I swore loyalty to your master and vowed to assist him in his endeavours? Is that the offer you mean?"

"I would not put it in quite those terms, my lord, but yes, that offer."

"Strange," Etean shook his head, "I remember giving you my answer in no uncertain terms. I also seem to remember that my house guard explained my answer to you quite clearly." A slight smile twisted Etean's lip. "How is the knee by the way?"

Lucius shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot. "Healed quite well, my lord, thank you."

"You are welcome," Etean said sarcastically, with a slight nod. "I do hope it was not that which slowed you down in the Ministry last May, and lead indirectly to your recent term in Azkaban?"

Lucius didn't speak. Etean watched him, resisting the urge to smile as his frustration mounted.

In the end, Lucius again broke the silence. "You will forgive me, my lord," he said, sounding a little exasperated, "but it appears to me that you have not, as I had concluded, changed your mind regarding joining the service of the Dark Lord?"

"I think that it is safe to say that, yes."

"Then," Lucius frowned, "what is it that brought you here?"

"Many things, Lucius," Etean said, sending a charge of power down to his fingers as he raised his hand to point at Lucius, "but we can start with your head on a plate."

Lucius stared, unmoved at the ball of light sparking on Etean's outstretched fingers. "My lord," he said, sounding slightly amused, "My head on a plate? Surely you jest."

"I don't see why," Etean said sombrely, "It would have a certain appeal…I could arrange for your head to rest next to your wife's…there is something of a pleasant symmetry in that don't you think?"

Lucius' face lost all mirth. "You were with my son when he received my…gift, were you not?"

"I was there," Etean said, not trusting himself to say more.

Lucius worked his jaw slightly and breathed loudly through his nose as he turned to level his glare at Etean more directly. "You will of course forgive me if I do not wish to discuss that particular matter."

"I will do nothing of the sort," Etean spat at him. "Certainly not because you say so, Lucius. Remember who you are talking to."

"I know full well who I am speaking to, Lord Etean," he spat the name, "but I serve one lord and master only, and it is not you. So if I choose not to speak with you on a certain subject, regardless of what that subject is, that is my choice! And if you truly came here to take my head," he spread his arms wide, "Then I invite you to try."

Etean regarded Lucius for a moment. "So the feathers do ruffle," he said. "Good," he lowered his arm and held Lucius' gaze, "Then we can get down to business."

"And what business is that?"

"The war," Etean said. "What else?"

"What about the war?" Lucius said in a harsh whisper.

"Simple," Etean said in return, "I am here to help you win it."

-----------------------------------

"Would you like me to tell you what I meant by 'contingencies'?" Menai asked after a long silence in which Draco had been struggling to sort out his view of the world.

"What?" he asked.

Menai smiled and refilled the now empty glass that sat on the desk before Draco. "I asked you if you wanted to hear what the Council's contingency plan is, and what we have been doing all this time that you have been under Etean's protection?"

Draco stared at him, numb to the core. "Their plan isn't to kill me?" he asked, half afraid of the answer.

"I have already told you, Draco, that it isn't. Killing you is the last thing that the Council wants."

"But Etean…"

"If our discussion tonight has taught you nothing else, Draco," Menai's tone became cold, "I would hope it has reinforced the simple truth of the first lesson you were taught in this place – nothing is as it seems. This includes Robert Etean, and everything he has ever told you."

"Ok then," Draco nodded and took another gulp of whiskey. He was starting to feel light headed, but he didn't care, "tell me."

"You are aware, are you not, that the English government has been seeking foreign aid to help them fight this war?"

Draco nodded. "They haven't had much luck, or so Etean told me."

"Have you considered why?"

"I…Etean told me that it's because the other nations are scared to commit to a war with Voldemort, that they don't think they can beat him."

"That is," Menai said slowly, "partly true. More accurately though, they haven't intervened because we have not allowed them to."

"What?" the word exploded out of Draco, "Why?"

"It was the plan. We wanted to isolate the war, to keep it contained to England for as long as possible to allow time for our contingency plan to mature," Menai waved Draco's response away, "The plan is quite simple really. We saw the return of the Dark Lord coming well in advance of the actual event, though we weren't aware of the manner of his return and, as such, we were not in a position to prevent his return.

"When he returned, we could but watch as he began to summon all of his former allies to him once more, and to rally what forces he could to his banner. This he did quite well it should be said, and soon he was once again surrounded by an array of dark forces too despicable to speak of.

"Once assembled," Menai's voice betrayed a hint of exhaustion, "it was clear that his army of followers, wizards, giants, trolls and all the rest, vastly outmatched any force that could be set against him. He was, in a word, unstoppable."

"That's where I came in, wasn't it?" Draco interrupted before he could stop himself, "Using me was a means to circumvent his army and strike him directly."

"Precisely," Menai said sternly, "but I will thank you not to interrupt me. We will get to that."

"Sorry," Draco all but whispered, taking a hasty sip of whiskey.

Menai continued. "Before it was decided to use the Ascension as a means to strike at the Dark Lord directly, as you put it, we faced the problem of an all out and total war in which our side would be outnumbered and outmatched by the enemy in almost every regard. We could see no way to fight that war that did not end in a horrible and crushing defeat. There was simply no force in existence that could stand toe to toe with the Dark Lord and win. So," Menai stood and once more returned to his globe, "we decided to create one."

"Create one?" Draco asked, dumbfounded, "Just like that?"

"Just like that, yes," Menai spun the globe once more and then reached out and jabbed his finger into it, stopping it suddenly. Draco looked at it, and saw the map of Europe facing him. Menai spoke again. "Between them, the nations of Europe possess tremendous strength. The French, the Germans, the Italians, all strong nations in their own respects, all of whom, thus far, have been spared the horrors of this war. None of them are strong enough to take on the might of the enemy single handed, but if they could work together, if we could forge an alliance, drawing the best of the individual nations together in the common good…" he tailed off and shook his head before turning to face Draco. "But…the French don't trust the Germans, the Germans have no respect for the Italians, and the Spaniards dislike everybody," he scoffed, "So you can imagine the difficulty we faced when trying to forge an Alliance between them, even one built on defence against a common threat. They are like bickering children, caught up in petty arguments over who should command what forces and which rank should outweigh which."

Menai returned to his desk and sat down. "We worked for years to try and persuade them to cooperate, but, in the end, we reached an impasse. There was nothing to base the Alliance on but abstract, and above all else, fleeting terror," he said, taking up the bottle and refilling his glass.

"That was where we were, not all that long ago it should be said. We knew the threat was coming, we knew we could not prevent it, and we knew that our efforts to overcome it were unlikely to succeed, until," he sighed, "Etean saved the day!" The sarcasm in the last sentence rang clear. Draco stared, unsure if Menai's story was over, and having no clue as to what he should say. Menai, though, wasn't finished. "I look back at that day now and I still cannot believe that the entire Council, myself included, was taken in by that boy and his wild ideas."

"The Ascension?" Draco asked.

"The Ascension," Menai nodded, "We knew Voldemort had tried it before, and that he would likely try it again at some point, he is obsessive in these things after all, but it was Etean, supported by that old fool Poliakov, that originally proposed that we use this goal as a means to take him down quickly and cleanly."

'Quick and clean?' Draco thought. "Unless you happen to be me that is," he sat forward in his seat, "Etean was the one that conjured up this whole mess in the first place?" Menai nodded his answer. Draco sat back stunned. He had to admit that he had always suspected that to be the case on some level or another, but hearing it said aloud like that made it ring all the more true somehow.

"Actually," a tiny frown creased Menai's brow as though a thought had just occurred to him, "Etean claimed that the idea had been his father's originally, but Robert Senior was dead by then and Etean himself had just returned from a three month absence."

"Where had he been?" Draco asked before he realised he had spoken.

Menai shook his head, "I don't know," he said simply, "But, he claimed that he needed time to grieve," Menai's tone left no doubt in Draco's mind that he no more believed that than Draco did. Etean didn't seem the type to run and hide in his grief. On the other hand, the only times Draco had seen any true emotion in Etean had been when they were discussing his father.

"How did Lord Etean die?" Draco asked, the question seeming to ask itself.

"A good question, Draco," Menai answered, "and one for which, unfortunately, I do not have an answer. It is a shame, but we may never know the true circumstances of Lord Etean's demise…"

'He killed himself,' Etean's voice sounded in Draco's mind. It occurred to him that that simple sentence may just be the answer that Lord Menai was talking about. An hour ago there would have been no doubt in Draco's head that it was the truth, but he kept silent. Doubt, and a strange sense of loyalty to Etean that still remained in his heart, held his tongue in check.

"All I do know is," Menai continued, "that he died suddenly and with no warning. His son inherited his ring and his title, as well as his place on the Council. He then promptly dropped off the face of the world, and when he returned, bringing all the answers with him, he offered no explanation for his absence. He merely outlined his plan, and the Council jumped at it."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "You didn't agree with the decision?"

"On the contrary," Menai smiled, "I did," he shook his head slightly, "I won't pretend I wasn't sceptical, I never trusted the boy or his father, but I listened to his proposal, and it seemed to be the best course to take at that point. It was not until much later that I began to suspect that which I am now certain of."

"And what is that?" Draco asked, rather more directly than he thought was wise.

Menai studied Draco's face for a long time before he spoke. "It is my opinion," he said calmly, "That Robert Etean represents a far greater threat to the safety of every man, woman and child in our world than the Dark Lord is, or ever was."

Draco stared. "How's that?" he asked, unsure if he had heard correctly. Worse than Voldemort?"

"Far worse," Menai sighed, "At least the Dark Lord has the decency to be an open threat, relying on fear to gain power. Etean shares his ultimate goal, but his methods differ radically, and that is what makes him dangerous."

Draco was now utterly lost. Menai seemed to be delving further and further into his own private reality, which Draco couldn't begin to understand. "I don't understand, my lord," he said simply, hoping for an explanation.

He should have known better. "You have heard of the Etyar?" Menai asked

Draco nodded, despite the confusion that his mind still held. "Etean's house guard?"

"Oh they are more than that, let me assure you. The Etyar are among the most feared and respected warriors that the wizarding world possesses. I spoke earlier of the Alliance that we tried to forge, the one that was all but dead?"

"What about it?"

"It was not, as it turned out, dead," Menai shook his head, "Not content with his plans for the Ascension, Etean turned his attention to the Alliance negotiations. Through his puppet, Poliakov, Etean managed to ensure that the Etyar, universally recognised for their strength, their honour, and, above all, their dedication to duty would become the common ground we sought, the rock on which the Alliance could be built."

Menai sat back and looked contemplative. "When proposed," he said at last, "it seemed like the perfect solution. As you know, we in the Circle always prefer to have a backup plan in all endeavours, and this was ours for this crisis. An army, strong enough to match our enemy blow for blow, should all out war befall us, and that would conceivably remain an asset for us in the future. We believed it to be a flawless proposition, but we were, I'm afraid, deceived."

Draco shook his head. "I don't understand. If the Etyar are as loyal and as strong as you say they are, surely any alliance built around them would be equally as strong."

"It would, and it will be, Draco. It's happening now, as we speak, but there is still a problem. One which the Council, including myself at the time, failed to see, and which you have failed to see in these past few months," Menai leaned forward, "The problem Draco, is Etean."

"I don't…"

"Right now Draco," Menai interrupted, "All across Europe, people are being trained, not to work alongside the Etyar, or to support their action, but rather they are being trained to _be_ Etyar. They will learn Etyar ways, wear Etyar armour and, when the time comes, they will, all of them, swear loyalty and service as Etyar, but not to any government, not to the Alliance, not even to the Circle itself," Menai stood now, resting his balled fists on the desk, "They will swear their lives to Etean alone. Where he leads they will follow."

"So?" Draco stood up, "What does that have to do with me?" This was getting tiresome now. What did he care about the goings on in the wide world? This wasn't his problem. He wasn't even sure that it was a problem at all. It sounded like nonsense to him, and he was tired of hearing about the problems of others. Draco had his own problems to solve. He'd be dead before any this even mattered anyway. Where was that blasted Librarian? Again he stared at the empty floor and silently implored the Librarian to return.

"This," Menai said, persevering, "has everything to do with you. You are the Dark Lord's heir."

"Don't remind me," Draco passed the comment without meaning to.

Menai paused. "I'm glad that I don't have to remind you, Draco," he said, "I am glad that you remember who and what you are, but I don't think you know what that means."

"It means, my lord," Draco spat, "that I am the one who is going to have to face Voldemort alone and unarmed. It means that I am the one that is going to have to try and kill him single handed, and it means, my lord, that I am the one who is going to die in the attempt. Anything else that you may think it means is irrelevant to me." Draco meant that to end the conversation, it was only the fact that the Librarian had still not returned that kept him from storming from the room.

Menai, it seemed, wasn't finished yet. "It is far from irrelevant. I am trying to explain something to you here, something important."

"What?"

Menai sighed and stood up straight once more. "In case you weren't listening just now, I was trying to explain that in a very short period of time, Robert Etean is going to have an army under his command, an army numbering in the thousands, which is already positioned at the heart of every government in Europe."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Draco asked sarcastically, "The Circle already interferes in the workings of those governments as it is. Now you will be able to do it more directly," he shrugged, "So what?"

"That is what the Council believes, Draco," Menai stared at Draco, "That is what Etean wants them to believe. Poliakov has them so caught up in tinkering with the minute details of forging this Alliance that they are blind to all else. He tells them that all is well and they actually believe him."

"Etean is not an evil man," Draco said slowly.

Menai sighed. "You truly believe that? Even knowing the extent of the lies that he has told you?"

Draco looked Menai in the eye. "He had a reason," his gaze fell away, "he must have."

"And what if he did?" Menai asked, "What if I could tell you what that is?"

"What you think it is," Draco corrected him.

"As you say, but I think I have earned an opinion," he raised his hand and showed his ring once more, "Just as I earned this."

The ring glinted in the firelight. "I am a Lord of The Circle, Draco. Like you I was chosen for a reason, I was trained. I learned well, and was given many difficult tasks to perform. As is the case with so many of us, my life was a mixture of success and failure, a little more of the former if you will allow me to say so. Finally, after years of hard work and service.." he puffed up slightly, "I _earned_ the right to sit on the Council and be called Lord."

Menai raised his hand and pointed at the door, "Out there, however, I have no title. None bow before me or stand in my presence out of duty. I am just a man, nothing more. Etean, however, is different. He never earned his title, his name or his position on the Council. Alone amongst the twelve, the ring of Lord Etean is passed down the line of direct descent without question of strength or skill."

"Etean has both," Draco said.

"That he has," Menai nodded, "he also has any number of people surrounding him, all telling him how great he is, how important he is. Everyone, his family, the plebs that call themselves the elite, even the members of the Council, who seem to think of him as some sort of prodigy." Menai paused, "It's not his fault I suppose, anyone who grew up listening to that nonsense would eventually start to believe it."

Draco shook his head. "I still don't see the point."

"Before his father died," Menai said as though he hadn't heard Draco at all, "the boy was different. He was arrogant and cocky to be sure, but I never saw him as dangerous, he always had a handle on things, a grip on reality. All of that changed the day he succeeded his father. I don't think he was ready for it, to tell the truth I feel sorry for him on some levels. Something…" Menai became distant for a moment, "Something snapped inside him that day, and childhood arrogance gave way to something more…potent. Lord Etean began to think that he was destined for higher things. He came to believe that it his place was to rule, just as the emperors of old did, and he set about making that happen."

"No," Draco said, "I don't buy it. If this Alliance of yours is arranged as you say, then Etean will have some influence behind the scenes…but that is what the Circle does!" he repeated, more exasperated than ever. Draco turned and started to pace, stamping his feet rather harder than was necessary in the vain hope that it would speed the Librarian's return. "The Circle affects change in the shadows, nudging and pulling at the right time, I fail to see how this is different. Even if all you say is true, it sounds to me that all that Etean is attempting to achieve is to create a more direct means of carrying out the work that the Circle does everyday."

"I am not finished," Menai said coolly. His expression had become the same icy mask that Draco remembered from their first encounter, but Draco didn't feel anything like the fear he felt last time. His eyes moved briefly to the crystal and a mote of understanding came to him, the truth about the respect that the Lords relied on was no more than an exercise of the same powers that he himself possessed.

"Etean's plans for gaining power goes deeper than seizing control of the Alliance." Draco looked up at Menai as he spoke, and tried to feign fear in his expression. "Consider for a moment that what I have said is true, and that Etean seeks the absolute power of the emperors, he still has obstacles to overcome. These obstacles are now our only means of controlling him, of curbing his power."

"Obstacles?" Draco asked. "Such as?"

"Such as the Russians," Menai began to count on his fingers, "They saw the danger of the Etyar's involvement, refused to sign the treaty, and now directly oppose the Alliance. They are powerful, and there are a lot of them being the largest wizarding nation in the world," he lowered another finger, "Such as the Dark Lord, who is hardly about to stand by and allow Etean to rise to power over him, and," Menai's expression hardened further, "such as you, Draco."

"Me?" Draco had to fight off the urge to laugh.

"Yes, you." There was no hint of humour on Menai's face. "You are the Dark Lord's heir. Just as he is a threat to Etean's grand plan for the future, so too are you, maybe even more of a threat. You are an unknown variable. You have the potential to be a force for darkness unmatched, or an equally potent force for good. Which of these scares Etean more is unknown, and is quite irrelevant at this point, he has decided not to take the risk."

Draco swallowed. "He has?"

Menai flashed a slight smile. "Has he not proposed a plan of action which promises the destruction, not only of the Dark Lord, but also his heir…rather, you!"

Draco's answer died on his lips. It was so obvious and so simple when put like that. If it worked, Etean would have managed to remove two obstacles from his path without the need to take on either of them. Could Menai be right?

"It takes strength to defeat one's enemies, Draco," Menai said calmly. "It takes skill to arrange for one's enemies to defeat themselves. Etean, as you so rightly said, has both."

Draco's mind tried again to believe what Menai was telling him. It was simple and it was blatantly obvious from his perspective. Yet, something in Draco wouldn't allow him to believe it, not completely.

"No," he shook his head, "It can't be…he couldn't…he isn't capable of that…"

"I think, Draco," Menai raised his glass to his lips, "that Etean's greatest asset is that nobody truly knows just what he is capable of."

-----------------------------------

"Help us win the war?" Lucius was silent for a moment, then he snorted loud through his nostrils. "Is that so? My, my, how will we ever repay you?"

"You can start by dropping the sarcasm."

Lucius held still, looking at Etean long and hard before shaking his head and turning away. "Go home, boy."

"DON'T CALL ME BOY!" Etean bellowed, pushing his voice out to fill the room.

Lucius shuddered at the sound and turned back to face him. "Forgive me, my lord," he said in a tone that bordered on sincerity, "but we are already winning the war, and I don't believe that we have no need for your particular brand of parlour tricks."

"Parlour tricks?" Etean asked, turning to point out the doorway behind him, to the courtyard, which still echoed with the guttural sounds of the dying dragon, "PARLOUR TRICKS?"

Lucius followed Etean's gesture, and then paused in contemplation. "Well, there was that," he let out a slow breath, almost a sigh, "My master will be most displeased when he learns that you have killed his beloved pet."

Somehow the term 'beloved pet' just didn't seem to suit Voldemort as far as Etean was concerned, but he let it go, "Well then, perhaps the next time you are left to baby-sit one of his 'pets' you will be less inclined to set them on your guests."

"Perhaps..." Lucius tailed off. Etean was almost sure that he could sense a wave of fear emanating from Lucius, but the noise and pain in his head drowned out so much of the sensation that he wasn't sure. "I didn't expect it to kill you, of course," Lucius continued in an out of hand manner, as though he was reading a newspaper.

"Is that a fact?"

"Yes," Lucius turned back to him, "Your reputation precedes you, my lord, but, after our last encounter, I was, quite understandably I feel, disinclined to trust you."

"So why bring me here?" Etean asked, ignoring the trust issue as irrelevant. Lucius no more trusted him now than he had when last they met, and the feeling was mutual.

"I brought you here because of your messages. My master wished for me to hear you out. The dragon was my idea…just in case you decided not to come alone."

"So," Etean said, "you are allowed to show initiative in your work, are you? Interesting."

"Indeed," Lucius said briskly, as though Etean had touched another nerve, "but perhaps we should get to business, and you can tell me how you plan to help us win a war which we have already all but won."

"Lucius please," Etean sneered, "do not stand there and pretend to me, even for a moment, that this war is over. You are winning, that is true, but to say you have won?

"No, you are far from winning. The Ministry is battered, yes, broken, perhaps, but not beaten yet. There are still those amongst your enemies with the will to fight, and, though many may be on the verge of abandoning all hope, you know as well as I do that a wounded animal is often all the more deadly."

"Until they are finished off, my lord."

"And just how do you plan to do that? What grand scheme has your master devised to allow his forces to claim total victory? What plans has he made to replace the existing government and infrastructure?"

"Those issues are not your concern," Lucius said, sounding rather annoyed.

"In other words," Etean raised his chin, "You haven't got an answer for them. The truth is that you are already overstretched. Your attack on this city, while brutal and savage, has left you with a problem because now, once conquered, it cannot function except to play host to foul creatures and decaying corpses. And now you are trapped here" he gestured to the filthy walls, "In this place that was once pristine until your associates touched it. You have nowhere to go, no plan for tomorrow, and so you stay, and you wait. This is you winning?" Etean laughed aloud.

"Tell me," Etean continued before Lucius had even begun to reply, "what will happen when you do finally figure out how to finish off the wounded animal that is your opponent? Once you destroyed the organised resistance to your forces and are faced with rebuilding a world and a society in accordance with your master's great vision," he let that sound deliberately sarcastic, "When you must deal with the inevitable uprisings, rebellions and guerrilla tactics that will be employed against you. Will you be able to look back on this day and say you had no need of my help?"

"On that day, my lord," Lucius' smug tone returned, "If you are still alive, we will be able to have this discussion again, and we shall find out."

"I am sure we shall," Etean said, "but I fear that our conversation on that day would be cut short."

Lucius frowned. "Really? I was not aware that prescience was a power you possessed, my lord."

"Oh there's nothing magical about that particular prediction, Lucius," Etean turned and walked onto the balcony once more. Lucius followed, both of them made sure not to step on either of the fallen guards.

"How is that?" Lucius asked as they both gazed down on the broken corpse of the dragon. Its dying flame had set fire to its skin in a hundred places, roasting the meat and causing it to crackle and sizzle into the night air.

"It is really quite simple," Etean answered him. "On that day you will once more be called away to the field of battle in defence of your master's new trophy," he gestured to the horizon, "And this time it will not be a casual hit and run war, carried out at your leisure. The nations of Europe, who up till now have remained neutral, allowing themselves to believe that the present war is nothing more than a petty internal skirmish, will stand idly by no longer. They already believe that England is a lost cause, and all they are waiting for now is the first opportunity, the first hint of weakness, the first moment when you are distracted and then…" he paused and turned to Lucius, "No," he said sombrely, "On that day, you will be facing a war the scale and manner of which has not been seen here in a thousand years, and something tells me that we will not be given a third chance for this conversation."

Lucius stared silently at the flames for a time, then he spoke, "My master would not agree with you."

The phrasing caught Etean's attention. "And what would…you…say?"

Lucius turned to look down at him. "I would say we finish this conversation tonight. And I would start by asking what help Lord Etean could offer."

Etean had to resist the urge to smile, these Death Eater types were so easy to manipulate. Lucius had wanted Etean to be involved in the war from the beginning, since before he had gone to prison in the first place. The postured arguments, and even the dragon attack had merely been a cover. Lucius had known from the start the kind of political clout that Lord Etean carried with him, and now he was playing to Etean's ego to see what he could gain from it.

"Well," he began, "the details will take quite a while to explain, but in summary, let me say this: With a slight alteration to your current tactics and, perhaps, a couple of minor sacrifices on your behalf, I can not only guarantee you a clean victory in England, but I can also ensure that your master's new domain will survive the coming, larger war in Europe."

Lucius studied Etean closely for a moment, and then said, "Tell me more…"

-----------------------------------

Draco stepped back from the desk and turned round to face the door. His mind struggled to sort all of what Lord Menai had just said. It was supposition and guesswork. It may be true, or it may not, or part of it may be true while part of it wasn't. In short, it was a great, steaming pile of not his problem, and his patience was nearing an end.

"I'm sorry, my lord," he said, struggling to hold onto his manners, "but I still cannot see why I should care about anything you have said. Even if what you say is true," he said quickly to block Menai's response, "there is little of it that concerns me. By the time any of what you fear comes to pass, I will be dead. What happens later is of no concern to me."

"What if you didn't have to be?" Menai said slowly.

"What?"

"You assume," Menai said, stepping round his desk and moving toward Draco, "that you will die in the completion of your mission, and I don't blame you. Etean has seen to it that you will face him totally unprepared for what awaits you, but that can change, if you act now."

"But…"

"Please," Menai cut him off sharply, "Set aside for the moment whether you believe me or not and let us speak only of you. Do you want to live?"

"Of course I want to live, but…"

"But, regardless of his motives, Etean has rushed your training. Even he admits this, yes?"

Draco sighed. "Yes, he does…he says there is no choice."

"There is," Menai said insistently, "That is what I have been trying to tell you all along. Etean's way is not the only way, he will simply not allow you to see it. You say that he is not evil, and that his motives are pure? Then prove it, I'll give you your chance. Leave Etean where he is, let him occupy himself with keeping the war going if that is his wish. Return here, to the Academy where I will train you to master the full extent of your power. Then you can face the Dark Lord as an equal, not throw your life, and our best chance for victory, away on the whim of a…of a misguided individual. And then, once the dust of the war has settled, you will remain our strongest hope for the future. If you are right, then life will flourish in peace, but if I am right, then you will be there, ready and strong enough to prevent Etean from starting this whole madness again."

Draco stood in place, stunned by this. It all hit him so fast that all he actually managed to process was, "Leave Hogwarts?" he asked, his mind flashing instantly on the crux of the choice, 'Leave Hermione?' He shook his head, "No, I can't do that…I…I won't!"

Menai's expression hardened once more. It looked a touch more imposing at this closer range. "I don't…" he began, then he trailed of and stared at the floor.

Draco looked down to see the misty wisps of the Librarian's shadowy form rising from the floor directly beneath where he was standing. He stepped awkwardly to the side as the Librarian's head drew level with his knee. In seconds, all seven feet of the ghost had emerged from the floor and were hovering between the two wizards.

"My lord," the Librarian intoned to Menai.

"Ah yes…Librarian," Menai's voice carried a hint of surprise as he spoke, "You're absence was longer than I had expected."

"My apologies, my lord," said the Librarian, "the archive is quite extensive, and I am not as young as I once was."

Menai frowned slightly at the odd joke. "I see, well then, have you compiled the information that Draco requested?"

"I have, my lord," said the Librarian.

"Well," said Draco shortly, after a brief look around failed to revel the presence of any books or scrolls that may have just appeared, "Give it to me," he ordered.

The Librarian turned to face him. "No!" it said sternly.

Draco blinked. "What?"

"I cannot give you that which you seek, young sir," was the gravely response.

"But you found it," Draco exclaimed, "You just said you found the records of Nailar's Syndrome in the Archive."

"Quite so," said the Librarian, "but I am unable to give those records to you."

Draco stood a moment, stunned. "WHAT?" he bellowed.

"Draco, please," Menai raised a hand to stall Draco, then turned to the Librarian once again, "Librarian, clarify," he said, sounding a little puzzled, "Why can you not give Draco the records of this Nailar's Syndrome?"

"They are sealed, my lord, by order of the Council of Avignon" was the answer.

"Sealed?" Draco asked, "but…"

"Draco," Menai said, sending him a look that clearly meant 'Shut up!' "Librarian, I, Lord Menai, hereby grant Draco Malfoy access to those records."

The Librarian hesitated, but only slightly. "I'm afraid, my lord, that you cannot do that."

"What?" both wizards spoke in unison, then stared blankly at one another for a moment.

"Why not?" Menai asked, waving Draco to silence again.

"The order that seals those records…any text on or referring to the subject of Nailar's Syndrome…states that no one other than the members of the Council itself may be granted access."

Menai stared at the Librarian for a long while, seeming to be deep in thought. "Odd," he said at last, "I don't recall that order ever passing before the Council."

"It is not to be expected that you would, my lord," the Librarian replied, "The order was given approximately seventeen years ago, before you joined the Council."

"Who gave the order?"

Draco had a rather odd suspicion that he knew the answer, and so was a little surprised to hear the Librarian say, "Lord Poliakov, my lord." Draco frowned, Poliakov? That was not what he had expected, but the Librarian wasn't finished. "The counter signatory being Lord Etean."

Draco froze. Etean, rather Etean's father had signed the order sealing all record of a disease that, according to Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, had not been seen in over thirty years. It didn't make any sense to him at all. Menai seemed equally confused.

"Seventeen years ago…" he said, almost to himself, "seventeen…" he looked around, and seemed to perk himself up slightly and turned to face the Librarian, "Thank you," he said, "you can go now."

"Go?" yelped Draco as the Librarian began to sink once more into the floor, "But no…you can't…I need…"

"There's nothing that can be done, Draco," Menai said, reaching behind him and returning the small crystal to its box. Draco felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as Menai closed the lid. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled as he felt the world around him once more. By the time he had regained his sense of balance, the Librarian had vanished and Menai had returned to stand once again behind his desk.

"Please, my lord," Draco said, stepping up to the desk, "Call the Librarian back, there has to be something you can do."

"There isn't, Draco," Menai said, "The Council sealed those records, and they must have had a reason…"

"Reason be damned," Draco yelled, "I need that information. You don't understand…"

"No, Draco," Menai's eyes filled with menace and cold fire, this time, chilling Draco to the bone, "It is you that doesn't understand. I cannot go against the orders of the Council anymore than you can. Those records are sealed and inaccessible to all but the Council members. The very best I can do is to examine the records myself on your behalf. You say your friend is ill?"

Draco's mind was still numb with fear. "Yes," he managed to say.

"Well then, can I assume that your search for information centres around trying to locate a cure?"

"Yes, it does."

"Very well then, I shall do what I can, and you, you Draco Malfoy should think hard about what I said here tonight. It may well be that when we next meet, we will not have so many options as we do now."

Menai looked away briefly as he reached down and picked up the small box from the table. Draco had a moment in which he could breathe once again, but just a moment before Menai spoke again. "I think that now, it is time that you left," he said quietly, but firmly, "We don't want your teachers to notice your absence, do we?"

"No, my lord, we don't," Draco said. Then, despite his desire to argue the point further, he found himself walking toward the door. He had reached it and opened it before Menai called him back. "Yes, my lord?"

"This friend of yours," Menai asked, "What's his name?"

"Granger," Draco said in a flat voice, "her name is Hermione Granger."

Menai looked at him hard for a moment, and then nodded. Draco turned and left, finding his way back to Hogwarts without difficulty.

_A/N: OK guys, heres the next lump. Right, this story is now officially blown apart by HBP - my response...so what! I knew it would happen and i dont really care - this is my story, which now branches from canon after book 5!_

_More to follow ASAP i promise_

_RoBoC _


	53. Enter the Etyar

A/N:

_Ok, so here's a new chapter for you AT LAST. _

_Let me start now by saying that I am truly very sorry for leaving you all waiting for so long. Believe me, if there were any way to avoid my prolonged absence, I'd have taken it, but there just wasn't, I hope you can understand that._

_So, WTF has taken so long, I hear you cry. Good question, I say, unfortunately its not one that I can answer at the moment. Without bothering you with details, let it suffice to say that my RL has been more than chaotic of late and will probably remain so for a while yet. But, at long last, I have finally managed to find some time to write again and, to be honest, it feels good, a way for me to relax for a few hours and have some fun for a change. So, that said, I hope to be able to update my story at least once every fortnight from now on. No promises mind you, I'm not good at them. All I can do is ask for your continued patience._

_So then, on with the chapter we go. I hope it will be worth the wait. The usual thanks go out to my beta, Raela, and naturally, all reviews will be very welcome. Thanks and sorry again for the delay._

_RoBoC_

:A/N

The portkey returned Etean to the third floor corridor of the Leaky Cauldron, dropping him neatly just outside the door of his room. The moment he landed he felt his knees buckle from under him. Bracing himself against the wall, he ground his teeth hard against the searing pain in his skull. Forcing his mind to focus, he worked the charm to summon his potion and then downed the foul concoction in one go. His stomach churned as the potion's effect spread through his body, burning away the pain in his head. Banishing the cup to oblivion, Etean took a moment to settle his mind before stepping forward and opening the door. The room was deserted.

'Damn!' Etean took a long look at the empty bed and swore under his breath. He checked his watch, a quarter past seven. His little excursion had taken longer than he'd planned. Blast it! Who knew Ginny was one to rise so early? It was still dark outside for crying out loud. What she thought when she'd woken up alone, he didn't really want to imagine. 'Damn!'

Etean bit his lip and glanced at his watch again, it was nearly time. He couldn't worry about Ginny at the moment. There were other things that needed to be done, and soon. By now the Etyar would have received their orders and started to mobilise. Even though the order had gone out earlier than expected, they wouldn't be late, the Etyar were never late. Etean pushed his mind outward. He couldn't sense them yet, but that didn't matter. Even now, he knew they would be moving into position, preparing to carry out their mission and it wouldn't do for him to be standing around wasting time when the moment arrived. Lifting his head high and settling his cloak about his shoulders, Etean spun on his heel and marched out the door.

The upper floors of the inn were practically silent. Here and there, as he passed by closed doors, he could make out the odd snore or grunt, but there was no sign of anyone moving about yet. That didn't really surprise Etean all that much. Yesterday had been a long day, and the few people who had managed to get some rest weren't likely to be waking anytime soon.

Voices floated on the air to him before he had even reached the lowest landing. By the sounds of it, some people in the main bar were most definitely not happy.

A large, glass fronted grandfather clock beside the bar door ticked the seconds away as Etean stopped to listen to the voices permeating through the door, trying to get a clearer idea of events in the bar before he entered. There wasn't much noise from the bar, but a general feeling of frustration and annoyance was clear. Etean wondered for a moment if Dumbledore had broken the news of the treaty yet. It didn't sound like it. From the sound of things, the place had yet to wake up properly.

Everything rested with Dumbledore. Etean hoped that the Professor was smart enough to realise what they treaty meant for the war effort, but he wasn't sure. He was nervous. He didn't like this. Showing the treaty to Dumbledore was an improvisation, a deviation from the carefully laid plan of action that he had gone to such trouble to set in motion. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea, but now? If Dumbledore decided to make things awkward at this juncture… Etean sighed. Catching sight of his own reflection in the glass of the clock, he set his jaw.

His hand reached out, but the doorknob turned before he even touched it. The door drew back and a familiar flash of red hair greeted his eyes.

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, as though startled to see him standing there, "There you are." Quick as a flash, she stepped through the doorway and pulled the door behind her. Etean braced himself, half expecting another slap across the face, but none came. Instead, Ginny simply stared at him for a moment and then seemed to shrink back. "I was just coming to look… I mean…" she paused, her jaw working silently for a moment, "Dumbledore asked me to fetch you."

Her voice was flat and devoid of any emotion. Etean wasn't certain if he would have rather she sounded upset. Ginny turned and made to open the door again.

Etean reached out and caught her arm. "Are you ok?" he asked her, feeling dumb the moment he said the words.

"Me?" Ginny let out a false laugh, "I'm fine… couldn't be better. How are you?"

"Gin, please," Etean took a step closer to her, "Don't be like this."

"Like what?" Ginny spat at him, shaking free of his grip.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, it seemed like he owed her at least that much. "I know it was wrong of me to just leave like that, but I had some… business to take care of and I just…I didn't have the heart to wake you." He felt a twinge of guilt deep down inside when he saw the look in her eyes, but at least part of what he was saying was true.

"Business?" Ginny frowned. "What business?"

Etean shrugged. "It's a long story," he said, then added, 'One which I don't particularly want to tell you right now,' in the privacy of his head.

Ginny looked as though she was going to press the question, but at that moment, the noise of conversation from the room beyond rose in volume.

"…you're not listening to me!" a single elevated voice cut through the chaos. Etean recognised Potter's voice. From his tone, Etean could pick out a fair amount of frustration and anger.

"Is that Harry?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head. "Yeah," she said, sounding a little deflated, "He's pissed off."

"When isn't he these days?" Etean asked with a slight smile.

Ginny stared at him. "Well," she said, "at least he's honest with people."

Etean sighed and stepped closer to her. "I am sorry, Gin, please don't be upset."

Ginny shook her head. "Say that to me after you wake up alone, with no idea where I've gone or why. Now come on," she stepped back from him and opened the door, "I got the impression that Dumbledore meant me to fetch you quickly."

With that, she stepped through the door and walked into the bar. Etean shook his head slightly and followed her.

Ginny turned once inside the bar and then headed off toward the corner booth, where her mother was sitting. Etean didn't notice any of the other Weasley's in the bar. He presumed they were all still asleep.

"Oh," she said, turning back to face him again, "he's in the snug by the way." She pointed off toward the rear corner of the bar where the entrance to the snug was located. Etean opened his mouth to speak to her, but Ginny didn't seem interested in listening. He felt a sharp pang inside as she turned away from him, but he pushed it aside for the moment, and headed off to meet the Professor.

As he passed the bar, Etean could smell the aroma of cooking from the kitchens as the chef prepared breakfast, but he doubted that anyone here was particularly hungry. Everyone he could see looked tired and weary. A couple of weather worn Ministry officials were trying to keep busy, hunched over bar tables as they poured over stacks of documents. Sitting at an isolated table Etean recognised Kingsley Shakelbolt, nursing a glass of Firewhiskey as he made a half hearted attempt to write some report or other. At the far side of the bar, several of the smaller tables had been pulled together to form a makeshift meeting table which had been piled high with stacks of parchment.

The door of the snug stood half open, allowing even a mildly curious passer a clear view of what was going on inside the small antechamber. If the bar was serving as a meeting hall then it appeared as though the snug had been converted into a kind of office. Inside, Dumbledore was standing in front of a small table, which was serving him as a desk by all appearances, engaged in deep conversation with Potter. From what he could hear from Potter's tone, Etean assumed that Dumbledore had moved this conversation out of the main bar so as to try and keep it a little more private.

"Please, Harry," Dumbledore said, taking Potter by the shoulders, "Believe me, I understand what you are saying, but you must trust me."

"But Professor, this can't go on. I'm ready, really I am… please…"

"Harry," Dumbledore cut him off with a slightly stronger edge in his voice, "This is a discussion for another time. Now," his voice hardened again, "calm down. I know how you feel, believe me, but the time has not yet arrived for such drastic measures."

Etean checked his watch. Time was marching on and, as intriguing as this conversation was, Etean decided that it was time to make his presence known. Stepping closer to the door, he cleared his throat to attract the Professor's attention and then stepped into view. "You wanted to see me, Professor?" he said.

Dumbledore turned at the sound of his voice and looked at Etean. His face betrayed the same, tired expression of those in the bar, but in his eyes Etean could see no trace of the exhaustion the Professor had to be feeling. Dumbledore inclined his head in greeting. "Ah yes, Mr. Etean, indeed I did," he turned to Potter, "We will continue this discussion later, Harry," he said firmly. Potter looked for a moment as though he was going to argue, but it seemed that something in the way Dumbledore spoke to him changed his mind.

"Ok, Professor," he said and then, shaking his head slightly, he stepped past Etean and into the bar.

Dumbledore turned back to Etean. "Now then, let us not beat about the bush here. As I'm sure you know, I have many demands on my time at the moment."

"I understand, Professor." Etean nodded.

"Good," Dumbledore said, "then I will be plain." He reached inside his robes and drew out a long scroll which Etean instantly recognised. "I would like to know why you arranged for this document to come into my possession yesterday?"

Etean smiled. "I would have thought," he said in a deliberately neutral tone, "that the reason was quite obvious. You have read it I assume?"

Dumbledore studied him for a moment. "I have taken a look at it, yes," he said eventually, "To say that I have read it thoroughly would be inaccurate, but I feel that it is safe to say that I understand its meaning well enough."

"Excellent," Etean smiled.

"Is it?" Dumbledore asked. "I'm afraid I don't see how." He brandished the treaty. "This treaty, unless I am very much mistaken, bands the nations of Europe together in mutual defence."

"That it does, Professor."

"And," Dumbledore continued, almost as though he hadn't heard Etean, "it also appears that, since the parties involved went to great effort to ensure that nobody in the Ministry here had the slightest clue that this treaty was being negotiated, it stands to reason that it was their intention that England play no part in this…'Alliance'. Thus, the negotiations that this government has been pursuing over the last few months were destined to be fruitless since even before they started."

Etean nodded. "Again… that is a fair assessment of the situation."

Dumbledore sighed. "And you knew of this?"

"I did," Etean replied simply, so far the Professor was right on track, no need to push too hard.

"So then," Dumbledore said, almost as a grunt, "I arrive back at my initial question: why?"

"Why?" Etean repeated, "Why what, Professor?"

"Why did you show it to me? Why now, when it is too late for anyone to do anything to change the situation?" a touch of anger crept into the Professor's voice; this was a surprise to Etean. He wondered for a moment whether the Professor had in fact seen the real truth of the situation. He didn't get the time to wonder for long, however, as the Professor continued, "Why did you come here, Mr. Etean?" he asked, "Why did you arrange to come to my school when you did? You must have known that doing so would be to put yourself in harms way, and you don't strike me as the kind of person that would do such a thing lightly."

Etean narrowed his eyes. He had to tread carefully here. "I think, Professor, that you are giving me too much credit here."

"Really?" Dumbledore said. He unrolled the treaty and turned it round so Etean could see the part where his signature was burned into the parchment. "You signed this treaty, Mr. Etean, which means that you not only knew about it from the very beginning, but that you also had a hand in drafting it. So," the Professor rolled the treaty up again, "shall we get to it? When I said that I wanted to not beat about the bush, I expected you to do the same."

Etean relaxed inside; the Professor may be playing things somewhat more vigorously than he had expected, but he was on the right track nonetheless. Well, if that's how he wanted to play this… "Fair enough, Professor," Etean said, "as you wish. Yes, I did sign that treaty, and yes, I was more than aware of its contents since long before I applied to attend Hogwarts and…yes, it is fair to say that the spirit and intent of that treaty played a part in my decision to come to your school, but, I believe your question was…"

"Why?" Dumbledore finished for him.

"Why?" Etean repeated. "Good question, Professor," he smiled. "The answer is simple. I wanted to help."

"That is simple," Dumbledore commented, "perhaps… overly so."

Etean looked at him for a moment before he continued. "Perhaps, but you did ask that I not beat about the bush, Professor."

"I did," said Dumbledore, "but I think there is time for a little more beating in the best interest of this particular bush."

Etean nodded. "Very well," he paused, as though arranging his thoughts, "I came to Hogwarts because I was more than aware of just how bad things were going to get, and I knew that there were things that I could do to help if given the chance," he shrugged slightly, "Attending school in England gave me the one thing I lacked to have that chance, a reason to be here."

Dumbledore frowned, but he said nothing. Silence was his invitation for Etean to continue, so he did, "I may have signed that treaty, Professor, but believe me when I tell you that I don't like it one bit. I was opposed to it from day one but, unfortunately, my opinion was never going to change a damned thing. That treaty was going to happen with or without my support." He sighed. "That is the real irony of being Lord Etean. While my position…my name…may open doors for me, doors that are closed to others, and while I may be privy to certain information that others are not, I am not in a position to be able to do anything about…well, anything. Lord Etean may be an important man, but when it comes right down to it, I have no real authority whatsoever. At least," he paused and looked at the Professor for a moment, "not directly."

A slight breeze brushed across the back of Etean's neck. His ears pricked up at the sensation and he focussed part of his mind on the bar. His senses told him exactly what he had expected they would. Etean looked at Dumbledore closely for a moment, checking to see if the Professor had noticed anything odd, but Dumbledore's gaze remained steady and fixed.

With only the slightest pause, Etean continued as he pointed to the scroll, "I know the people who put that treaty together, Professor, and they will all tell you that they are doing what they believe is in the best interest of the people they are sworn to protect, but that's a lie. All of it is a lie, the whole treaty, every word of it," he scoffed aloud, "That treaty says 'defence', but that's nothing more than a figure of speech to the people who wrote it, one that has no meaning when it comes to it. The reality of the situation is that people, who like to think making decisions is their job, made a decision and that treaty is the end result. Those people looked at the situation with the coming war, they looked at what they would call the 'bigger picture' and, having done that, they chose to cut you off. They drew up that treaty, built their Alliance, their high wall to keep the bad men out and they kept you on the outside when they pulled up the ladders. Now," Etean paused for breath, "I can stand here and argue the morality of the decision with you till we are both blue in the face, but it will change nothing."

Another breeze touched Etean's neck. He looked at Dumbledore, and Dumbledore looked at him. For a moment, both of them just looked at one another, then the Professor spoke, "You still haven't told me why you are here. In what way does your presence at Hogwarts give you the power to help us?"

'Here goes!' Etean smiled. "Before I go on," he said, "Tell me, Professor, can you hear anything?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly, and then tensed to listen. Etean heard it too, or rather he couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear anything at all now that he had stopped talking. The noise and general hum of conversation from the main bar had vanished into silence. Etean's smile remained fixed as he stepped aside and gestured to the door. "After you, Professor," he said.

The Professor bustled past Etean and marched into the main bar with purpose. He didn't get two steps inside before he stopped in his tracks. Etean smiled wider. 'Perfect timing.'

Dumbledore turned to him as Etean followed him out of the snug. "I hope," he said in a flat tone, "that you have a very good explanation for this."

Etean scanned the room slowly. Just as he had expected, the conversations and private deliberations had all ground to a halt as, timed as though they were one man, two full units of Etyar had appeared in the bar, armed and ready. In an instant, they had taken over the room. Kingsley Shakelbolt was still at his table, sitting bolt upright with an Etyar talon blade at his neck. Both doors into the bar were covered and secure, the people had been rounded up and disarmed in less than thirty seconds and all of it in total silence. Now, even Dumbledore himself was held at wandpoint, unable to act. The Professor, for his part, didn't seem all that concerned with his current predicament. His hands remained stationary at his sides and he seemed relaxed as he stared down an Etyar wand. From the look of utter shock that graced the faces of everyone else in the bar though, the arrival of the Etyar had had every ounce of the effect that Etean had hoped it would. He felt a swell of genuine pride at their achievement until his eyes met Ginny's. The look of confusion and fear on her face tore into him. Etean tried to let his gaze settle her, but it didn't seem to work so he decided that it was best to just get this over with.

"Of course I have an explanation, Professor," he said, and then turned to the man holding Dumbledore at bay. "Captain," he addressed the taller, grey haired man, with a formal tone, "I am glad to see that you have carried out your orders perfectly, and with exemplary timing."

The Etyar Captain nodded curtly without removing his attention from Dumbledore. "Merci, mon Seigneur," he replied in a curt, clipped tone.

"May I assume that you have carried out the remainder of my directive with equal dedication?" Etean asked.

"I have, mon Seigneur," came the response in the same tone.

"Excellent!" Etean laid a hand on the Captain's arm, "then, of course, you may stand down."

The Captain relaxed and lowered his arm, but his body remained tense. Etean was a hair away from ordering him to relax, but thought better of it. Around the bar, the other Etyar followed their Captain's lead and stood down. Those who had taken wands from the people in the bar set about returning them while those at the doors stood at ease. Now that they were no longer being held as prisoners, the gathered people began to relax. There was a scrape of a chair on the floor as Kingsley Shakelbolt got slowly to his feet. His movements remained slow and calm as he turned to face Dumbledore. A small look passed between him and Dumbledore, but he did nothing more than stand in silence. All the same, the Etyar that had been holding his blade on Shakelbolt remained close to him, a visible reminder of the current situation. Etean glanced in Ginny's direction. She had gotten to her feet, and was helping her mother, who looked distinctly shaken, back into the booth. Again he felt a pang of guilt. He really should have warned her, but what could he do about that now?

Suppressing a shrug, Etean decided to get back to business. He turned to Dumbledore. "Professor," he said, "May I introduce Dominic, Etyar Lieutenant Captain and Chief Instructor of the Etyar Training Academy."

Dominic didn't so much as blink as he was introduced. Dumbledore seemed momentarily bemused, then he nodded slightly. "A pleasure, Captain, but, you will forgive me if I am still unclear as to precisely what is going on." His eyes had settled on Etean before he had finished his sentence.

"Like I said, Professor," Etean replied, "it is simple. This," he gestured around him, "was meant as a demonstration, nothing more."

"What's going on?" Potter's voice cut across whatever it was that Dumbledore was going to say. Etean turned to face him. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"No, Harry," Etean answered him. "No joke, this is in fact as serious as it gets."

"Well," Potter sneered, "it certainly doesn't look that way. It looks like the world's least funny practical joke to me. Just what is it that you are trying to demonstrate?"

"Well, Potter, if you need to ask then clearly you weren't paying attention, were you? Now then, as I was saying, Professor…"

"What the hell…" Potter started.

"Harry," Dumbledore cut him off, "a moment, please?"

Potter looked at Dumbledore for a moment, and then backed off, shaking his head.

"Right," Etean said, clearing his throat, "where was I? Oh yes," he walked over to Dumbledore and plucked the treaty scroll from his hand, "It all comes back to this. Like I told you earlier, Professor, I knew that this was coming a long time ago, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I could, however, nudge it a little in certain places, thereby creating a loophole or two, which I could then take advantage of when the time was right," he turned back to the Professor and lifted the treaty.

"This treaty is, essentially, a commitment by each of the signatory nations to devote fully two thirds of their current and future defence and law enforcement resources to the creation and maintenance of a single, unified multi national security force… an army in all but the name… an army that will have ultimate responsibility for maintaining the peace and mutual sovereignty of each of the signatory nations.

Etean was by now aware that his act was beginning to grate on his audience's nerves, but he carried on regardless, "Now, according to this," he unrolled the top part of the treaty, 'It is hereby declared that any threat to any signatory nation herein can and will be met by any response necessary to ensure the continued security of the threatened nation. Resources, both of wand and wizard, necessary for this response shall be drawn without reservation from the common defence alliance under the direction of the Central Alliance Administration. Furthermore," the scroll crinkled as he read, "'the identification of such a threat shall remain the sole discretion of the governing body of the threatened nation, who will at all times retain all rights and privileges of a sovereign nation. Such sovereignty will be guaranteed as prima coda by the Central Alliance Administration.'

Etean paused and glanced around at the watching faces, "What this means, of course," he continued, ignoring the mounting look of frustration on Potter's face, "is that, if any country decides that a given threat exists, their allies are, by the terms of this treaty, obliged to respond with whatever force may be necessary to eliminate this threat. Though, obviously, it says a whole lot more than that," he paused to smile at Dumbledore, the gesture was not returned. Etean shook his head slightly and carried on, "Personally, I like the wording of that clause. Short and concise and yet florid and quite strong in its wording with all those definitive terms and universal quantifiers. Despite all that, it is still almost perfectly vague when you really look at it, which gives room for interpretaion," he smiled, "but it gets better later on."

Etean returned his attention to the treaty, scrolling down until he found the passage he was looking for. "Ah," he said when he found it, "here we go. 'It is the declaration of this body, in recognition of services rendered in whole or in part to the formation of the Mutual Defence Alliance, that the title and estate of the Lord Etean, to be held in succession of blood and to remain in perpetual service to the French Republic, henceforth and forever be awarded national sovereignty in the eyes of this treaty and to be held as such by all signatory bodies. All holdings and assets of the Etean Estate are herby converted to and created as Property of the herein established Sovereign State of Etean.'" he paused, and looked up, "Oh it goes on, but that about covers this treaty's relevance to the current…ehem…situation."

That was it, all that remained now was to wait and discover whether Dumbledore possessed the insight to join the dots and make the final leap needed. Etean had no doubt that he would figure things out in short order, if he were given just a moment to absorb what he had just heard.

He hadn't counted on Potter's tenacity, however. "That," Potter's voice broke the silence, his tone full of sarcasm, "was a perfectly wonderful explanation, Etean, and yet somehow, we are still none the wiser as to just what in the hell is going on here."

Suppressing a sigh, Etean turned to face the irate Gryffindor, "And since when was I trying to explain anything to you, Potter?" he said, barely restraining his frustration, "Why is it you feel you have the right to know everything that goes on in the world? What is it that makes it anything to do with you?"

"I have been involved in this for a lot longer than you have, Etean, and unlike you, I don't enjoy playing jokes on people and scaring them out of their wits."

"Harry," Dumbledore's tone was a warning.

"No, Professor," Etean waved him off, "Harry wants to be heard, and he will be heard." He turned to face Potter again. "You know," he shook his head, "You're right, Harry, this really isn't your style, is it?" This was not really how this discussion was supposed to be going, but Etean was thoroughly annoyed now and past caring. "You just stick your nose in places where its not wanted time and again. You just have to leap in feet first where you don't belong and drag others with you, with no regard for them getting hurt or killed. And for what?" Etean stepped toward Potter. "Tell me, Harry, just what have you ever earned for yourself, or for anyone else, aside from danger and misery?"

"Why you…" Potter started forward. He only made it two steps, however, before Dominic's arm intercepted him. The Etyar Captain's hand seized Potter by the throat and held him firmly in place. The man moved so quickly that his actions set off a startled gasp from the direction of Mrs. Weasley. Etean could hear her whisper Potter's name in alarm.

"That," Dominic said calmly, "is not very polite."

"Its alright, Captain," Etean said after a beat, "let him go. Mr Potter here is just a little frustrated, that's all. He attacks with his fists because he's been having trouble holding onto his wand lately," he added with a smile.

Potter's glare was an inferno, which only made Etean's smile wider. Dominic held his grip on Potter's collar for a moment longer and then released him. Potter slumped slightly and rubbed his neck.

"How do you know about that?" he hissed, with a cautious sideways glance at Dominic.

"I'm sure, Harry," Dumbledore answered in Etean's place, his tone was soothing as he tried to diffuse the situation, "that you of all people are aware of how hard it is to keep anything secret in Hogwarts, least of all something which was not really a secret to begin with. But now," he turned to Etean, "perhaps we can get back to the matter at hand."

Etean nodded. "Certainly."

Beside him, Potter shifted uncomfortably for a moment on the spot. Then a hushed whisper from Mrs. Weasley caught his attention and, reluctantly, he sloped off to sit beside her.

Dumbledore's brow creased slightly. "Am I to assume, Mr. Etean, that those passages were added to the treaty as a means for you to 'nudge' matters, to use your term?"

"You may assume that, yes," Etean replied quietly.

Dumbledore nodded, "So then, and you will forgive me if my interpretation is incorrect, what you are saying is that this treaty grants each nation the protection of its allies to defend against external threats to its security. It also grants the governments of those nations the right to determine for themselves what is and is not a threat to them. Once a threat is identified, the threatened nation may respond to it, with the full support and backing of its allies. Am I essentially correct here?"

Etean inclined his head. "You are."

"And," Dumbledore continued, "as a signatory of this treaty, you, rather your family's estate is recognised as a sovereign nation with, presumably, you at its head?"

There was a hint of edge to Dumbledore's voice that gave Etean pause. There was something in the Professor's tone that suggested unease at what he was saying. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Etean chose his words with care. "Only in so far as the treaty is concerned, but yes. So, perhaps now my motivation for wishing to attend Hogwarts is a little clearer to you?"

Dumbledore's face remained impassive, "Coming to Hogwarts put you in harms way. Once you were here, it was only a matter of time before your life was threatened and…"

"Any threat to the head of state is certainly recognisable as a threat to state itself, wouldn't you agree?" Etean finished for him, allowing his smile to broaden. "That was the idea, Professor. And now that the treaty is law, I am free to declare yesterday's attack on the Ministry, in which I was injured, as a direct attack by Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters on me, which grants me the right to respond with whatever resources are available to me," he gestured to Dominic and the other Etyar, "and here they are.

"Last night," he made sure to catch Ginny's eye as he spoke, "I sent word to the Etyar academy in Marseilles that all Etyar available for mobilisation be transferred here to my direct authority."

"For what purpose?"

The question caught Etean slightly off guard. He was sure that Dumbledore already knew the answer to that question, making it redundant, and Dumbledore didn't strike him as being the kind to ask redundant questions. The Professor's face was still an impassive mask, but behind his eyes Etean could see thoughts and ideas sparking and shimmering with almost manic speed. Dumbledore was playing for time, trying to get a handle on events that clearly he hadn't been expecting. Fair enough.

Etean cleared his throat before he answered, "It is my intention, officially, to order that the Etyar carry out a full investigation of yesterday's attack and that they continue in their investigation until such time as each and every single person responsible is brought to justice."

"And unofficially?" Shakelbolt spoke up, until now he had been silent, watching Etean and the surrounding Etyar with hooded eyes. Now, he stepped forward to stand beside the Professor.

"Unofficially," Etean turned to look the Auror in the eye, "they are at your disposal. I have pulled over 50 Etyar from their posts and, now that they are here, their goal will be the same as yours." Etean reached out and tapped Dominic's breastplate with a knuckle, "Of course, direct command will remain with Dominic here, but he will, as I have ordered him, answer to you or to whomever it is that commands the effort to destroy this Dark Lord once and for all."

Shakelbolt looked at Etean as though unsure if he had really heard what he thought he had just heard. "Are you serious?" he asked calmly.

"Very," Etean nodded.

Shakelbolt's WHOOP of joy was so loud that Etean unconsciously glanced at the windows to see if they were still intact. All traces of exhaustion vanished from his body as he turned and clapped the nearest Etyar on the arm. He seemed to have forgotten that the man he was now welcoming to the fight so jovially had been holding a razor sharp, three-bladed weapon at his throat less then five minutes previously. Etean didn't begrudge him his moment of joy. He presumed that this was the first real good news that the man had heard in a long time. Shakelbolt's mood seemed to be infectious. All around him, Etean could sense the aura of general despair dissipate, to be replaced by an optimistic, almost hopeful feeling.

Professor Dumbledore alone, however, remained contemplative. His face remained blank as he looked at Etean. Once Kingsley's initial celebrations had died down, Dumbledore cleared his throat for silence.

"You have made a most generous offer, Mr. Etean, but I am forced to wonder whether or not you have thought this decision through. I cannot imagine that this decision will go down well for you back home. After all, and again, forgive me if I have misinterpreted events, but doesn't this go almost diametrically against the spirit of this treaty?"

Etean smiled, "But it goes with the letter of the treaty, Professor, and, at the end of the day, that is what matters," he waved off Dumbledore's next question, "Oh I'm sure that there will be some disquiet in the Adjutaire when they learn of this. I wouldn't even be surprised if there were some formal complaints made against me, challenging my actions, but I am more than prepared for that. Believe me, I have enough red tape lined up behind this decision to keep anyone who tries to meddle tied up till doomsday."

"You seem certain of that," Dumbledore said quietly.

"I am," Etean nodded, "It all comes down to bureaucracy. After all, this treaty hasn't been in place for even a day yet, not long enough for the ink to dry and of course, signing a treaty is one thing, implementing it is quite another. This," he brandished the scroll, "will have wide-ranging ramifications at all levels of quite a few government, which, as is always the case with such changes, won't be easy to effect. Realistically, though the Alliance exists today, it will be years before it is a reality, legally and politically. As it is, the vast majority of the administrative machinery that this treaty calls into existence to govern the Alliance are just words on parchment. As such, while there will be many that are not be very happy at my actions today, there will be precious little they can actually do about it," he paused and shrugged.

"The point is, as any lawyer will tell you, the word of the law is what matters and right now that word says that what I'm doing is legal, so I will be safe, at least for now. Whether it's something that I will live to regret or not will depend on the outcome of this war, but that really doesn't matter at this point."

"It doesn't?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," Etean replied. "You see, and forgive me if I misinterpret things here, but as I see it, if, with the help of the Etyar, you are able to win this war, then I think its safe to say that the voices of any dissenters to my decision will simply vanish. If, however, the war is lost…" he paused, "Well, then the petty objections of a few politicians will be the least of my worries, wont they?"

"I suppose," was Dumbledore's response, "but this still concerns me…"

"Albus, please," Shakelbolt interrupted, "I think its fair to say that Lord Etean knows what he's doing, and who are we to question his help?" There was, if you listened for it, just a hint of desperation to Shakelbolt's voice as he said this.

Dumbledore seemed to contemplate the situation for a moment longer, and then he nodded. "So be it," he sighed.

"So then," Etean said, relieved that Dumbledore was on side, "forgive me, but there is one matter that must be cleared up right away. May I assume that the Ministry will not be placing a formal objection to the Etyar's presence here?"

Dumbledore took a moment before answering, "The authority of the Ministry is mine to command, but only on a provisional basis. I can therefore make no promises for the long term, however, so long as the decision is mine to make, then yes, you can assume that," Dumbledore said.

"Thank you," Etean nodded, and then turned to Dominic, "Proceed with the next phase of your orders, Captain."

Dominic nodded and stepped back to salute. He had turned to leave when Shakelbolt's voice stopped him. "Wait!" Dominic's eyes darted to Etean, who nodded.

Etean turned to Shaklebolt. "Yes?" he asked.

Shakelbolt frowned. "Next Phase? What do you mean?"

Dominic stopped in place and turned to face Shakelbolt. He didn't reply, but instead his gaze fell once again to Etean. Etean turned his head slightly and nodded. The Etyar Captain's jaw bunched slightly as though he were frustrated at having to explain himself to Shakelbolt, but he turned and answered in a dry, forced tone. "As Seigneur d'Etean has already stated, my mission here is to seek out and bring down those who call themselves Death Eaters."

Dominic seemed to think that this was explanation enough, though Shakelbolt and Dumbledore clearly had other ideas. Before they could prompt for more information, Etean narrowed his eyes at Dominic in a warning gesture.

Picking up on it, the Captain contined, "The initial phase of our operation involved securing intelligence and information pertinent to our overall goal and then to deploy ourselves according to the most applicable of a number of pre-determined operation plans," he paused here, but only for a breath, "The next phase will consist of a series of actions designed to undermine and eliminate the enemies' ability to move freely and, therefore, reduce their ability to continue their campaign of aggression. As we speak, Mon Seigneur's Etyar are now moving into position to mount the first wave of these actions and it is my intention to begin as soon as they are prepared."

"Actions?" Shakelbolt asked, "What actions? Where? What exactly are you planning to do?"

Dominic again didn't answer immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, Etean noticed him turning, asking for permission. Etean resisted the urge to roll his eyes, why must this man be so pedantic? He nodded to the Captain again, "Full disclosure, Dominic."

Dominic cleared his throat. "On orders from Seigneur d'Etean, I directed the Etyar commander of the Adjutaire Wing to secure all relevant information on the movements and activities of all individuals known as Death Eaters currently at large. An examination of this material identified several locations that we believe these Death Eaters have been using as safe houses and staging points during their recent campaign of aggression. Our intention now is to deliberately and systematically remove these assets from our enemy, thus curtailing their ability to make war."

"The Adjutaire?" Shakelbolt asked. Etean was actually amazed that the man was still awake after Dominic's little speech. "Safe houses? Do you mean to say that the French Government has information about our war that we don't?"

"I would have thought," Dominic replied, "that that much would be clear. The Adjutaire's intelligence gathering operation is second to none."

Shakelbolt seemed taken aback. "I see," he replied, "well, perhaps it is easier to study a war when one is not actually fighting one."

Dominic opened his mouth to reply. Etean felt as though he were in a dream. Did this man not comprehend the reason he was here in the first place? "Captain," he said before the Etyar could say anything further, "Perhaps it would be best if you were to share the information you retrieved from the Adjutaire with the Professor and Auror Shakelbolt."

Dominic frowned, "Mon Seigneur?"

Etean sighed silently. All of this posturing was starting to give him a headache. "In the interest of co-operation, Captain," he said sharply, "This country is their jurisdiction after all."

"Your Etyar stand ready, Mon Seigneur," said Dominic, "to delay…"

"The Etyar will still be ready in twenty minutes, Captain, and I seriously doubt if it will take you any longer than that to bring these gentlemen fully up to speed."

Dominic's eyes glazed over slightly, but he stood straight and said, "Of course, Mon Seigneur."

"Good," Etean caught Ginny's eye. She was standing by the bar now, having just received a sandwich from Tom by way of breakfast, "Now," Etean straightened up and turned to Dumbledore and Shakelbolt, "I think you gentlemen have quite a lot to discuss. So, if you will excuse me, I think I'll get something to eat."

-----------------------------

Draco blinked. That action alone made his eyes sting. Gods how long had he been staring? And staring at what? What in the world had convinced him that staring at a half finished game of chess would help him to sort out this whole mess. No, messes, he corrected himself. There was certainly more than one mess in his life right now. As if he hadn't been confused enough before his trip to the Academy, a few moments talking to Lord Menai had made things so much worse. He could honestly see now why Etean didn't like that man. He still very little information about the specific cause of their falling out, that was true, but the two of them were so… well, manipulative was the only word that sprung to mind, the two of them were so damned manipulative, that the idea of them ever getting along was laughable.

That was what Draco wanted to do, laugh. Seriously, what else was there for him to do? He'd been through the situation hundreds of times. He'd played it out one way, then another and then another and on and on in an attempt to find some explanation, any explanation that made this whole thing made sense.

He didn't know where to begin, he really didn't. Lord Menai's words had struck him as being too fanciful to believe at first, but then, after he'd been thinking for a while, he'd started see something in them. Lord Menai could be telling the truth, he really could. After all, why would the man lie? What possible reason would he have for sewing discord between Draco and Etean? If he wasn't telling the truth, then what possible good could come of him interfering?

And then there was Etean. He was hiding things, of that Draco was certain, but hadn't he been the one to stand by Draco throughout this whole mess? Hadn't he been the one to save him from the Death Eaters and his father? Hadn't he stood up for him when the Council had ordered a termination to this whole affair?

That counted for something. Etean had earned Draco's trust, hadn't he? Or had he? Could Draco be sure? What side was Etean on? Was this plan of his all that it seemed to be? Was this all about taking Voldemort down or was there something more to it? Was Menai right? Was Etean really trying to set himself up as some sort of new Emperor? Did that even make sense?

It could happen, Draco supposed. The groundwork was there. Etean was a pureblood, as pure as they came, his name and his title made him one of the most respected wizards alive. He had enough money in his vaults to do almost anything, and enough money could do almost anything, that was one lesson Draco had learned from Lucius. Then there was this plan of his. If everything went down as Etean had explained it, then Voldemort would be dead, Draco would be dead and Etean would be a hero, famous the world over. Could Etean become a new Emperor? Looking at it objectively, he could. He had the money, he had the pedigree, he would have the celebrity and soon, he would even have the bureaucracy with this Alliance that Lord Menai had mentioned, and with it, an army of loyal aurors stationed all over Europe. Now that was a sobering thought. If things played out according to Etean's plan, then he would emerge as the hero who destroyed the Dark Lord, with Draco being nothing more than some sort of pathetic martyr. Not that he cared about how he was remembered, but was that what Etean wanted? Was he really planning to use that victory as leverage to further his own success?

Draco shook his head. He was, once again, getting nowhere. What else was new? It had been the same thing over and over all night. He'd start down one line of thought and wind up going in circles before he knew it. That was what the chessboard had been for. He'd been wandering round the Slytherin common room in the wee small hours when he'd suddenly found himself staring at the tiny rows of chessmen and he'd thought, why not? Wasn't that what chess was? Strategy overlaid on strategy, each player trying to outsmart his opponent. Weren't the true masters of chess the players who could not only plan their strategy for victory, but who could also force their opponent to make moves that ultimately led to their own downfall? What if Draco was simply a bad player who was allowing someone with more skill to back him into a corner? Was Etean doing all of this, pretending to be his friend and ally, just so Draco wouldn't realise that his every action was playing right into Etean's hands?

Draco gave up; this was pointless. He couldn't answer any of these questions, and he was honestly starting to doubt whether the answers would do him any good. He didn't have any choice but to continue down this road he was on. Oh sure, Lord Menai had offered him a way out, but could Draco trust that? Why was he to suddenly believe that one manipulative bastard was better than another? What proof was there to say that Lord Menai, even if he were totally correct about Etean's motives, wouldn't turn out to have his own agenda at the end of the day? In fact, that was one thing that Draco was certain about: Lord Menai did have an agenda, as did Etean. Draco hadn't the first clue what either of their agendas was, but he knew they each had one. And what was his agenda? What did Draco want to get out of all of this? Well, a few weeks ago the answer would have been simple. Alive. Draco wanted to get out of this alive, nothing more. Now though, now things were not so simple. Now he had other concerns.

That was, of course, the real reason that he wasn't even considering taking Lord Menai up on his offer. If he left now, if he ran away from his commitment to Etean and went into hiding, or wherever it was that Lord Menai wanted to take him, it would mean he'd have to leave Hermione behind, and that was one thing that he just could not do, not when he could still help her. If nothing else, he could try to make things easier for her, in some small way, just by being there for her. If he left Hogwarts now, she'd have nobody. Her friends hadn't exactly been stellar companions of late. Oh, Draco had no doubt that they would rally round her once news of her… her condition reached them, but all the same, he didn't want them to support her. In some weird way, Draco felt that it was his place to be the one she leaned on, and he wouldn't leave her. Even if it cost him his life, Draco would not abandon her.

The realisation that Hermione Granger meant more to him now than he meant to himself hit him like a bucket of ice water. Draco almost laughed at the thought, but he knew that it was true. The realisation hadn't come quickly to him. It had been a gradual thing that he'd come to know over the last few weeks as he'd struggled to help her deal with her mysterious illness.

Her illness…

'Damnit!' Draco swore to himself. The whole night he'd fought so very hard to keep from thinking about how sick she was. He had been determined to think this whole thing through rationally and without the interference of emotion, but, the very thought of seeing her lying in that hospital bed made him choke up. He couldn't stand the thought of watching her fade away as she got sicker and sicker.

Suddenly, his thoughts were back at Etean again. His mind drifted back and he remembered how Etean's father had died recently under 'mysterious circumstances'. Poison, that was Etean's explanation for it, a suicide that had been hushed up to save the scandal, but could Draco really accept that? His father was just about the only topic that Draco had ever seen Etean really react to. Clearly, the subject of his father's demise was a very sensitive one for the current Lord Etean.

Draco found himself asking the same question over and over. Was it really poison that had killed Etean's father? Surely it couldn't be a coincidence that the man who buried all records of a mysterious and apparently fatal disease would then die years later in mysterious circumstances. It didn't add up. There was more to it; Draco could feel it. But how to be sure?

He stood up, stretching his muscles as he pondered that question. The common room was empty, a fact which mildly surprised Draco. It was a Saturday morning, and fairly late into winter. Normally, practically all of Slytherin house would be lounging about down here, killing time until lunch. There had been people here earlier; Draco had noticed them. They of course had paid him no mind, but that was no surprise. His friend Heather had said hello to him, but Draco had been too lost in his own problems to really talk to her. Now, he was alone.

Draco stood, perplexed, until his eyes alighted on the calendar on the wall. A big circle had been drawn around today's date with the letters 'RvH' scrawled inside it. Now it made sense. Today was the date of Ravenclaw's quidditch match against Hufflepuff. It was the last game before the Christmas break and was just about the only thing that the people in this school had to look forward to these days.

Draco shook his head and went back to the problem at hand. Etean was the key. The answers were out there, Draco had found them and now, Etean was his only means to get to them. Somehow, he had to convince Etean to open the records for him. It would be tricky, though. Those records were sealed, with access restricted to members of the Council, which meant that Draco was not supposed to see them. He doubted that he was even supposed to know about them, but he did.

Would Etean help him? That was the question. Somehow, Draco had the impression that breaking the rules of the Council wouldn't matter to Etean all that much, but that wasn't the problem. If Draco was right about the true fate of Etean's father, then any attempt by him to broach the subject to Etean would not end well, not in the least.

Still, Draco thought, he could just be honest with him. This was important after all. That information could help save Hermione's life and, painful or not as the subject may be to him, there was no reason for Etean to want to harm Hermione. Draco would just have to pick his moment, that's all.

The door of the common room slammed open, jarring Draco from his thoughts. He turned to see Theo Nott storming into the room, with Annabelle trailing after him, yelling at him to wait for her. Theo came to a halt in front of the fireplace, without even registering Draco's presence it seemed.

"Theodore Nathaniel Nott," Annabelle roared at him, "I demand that you answer me this instant. Just what the hell is in that paper that annoyed you like this?"

"Annabelle," Theo growled at her, "this… REALLY isn't the time for you to be ranting on at me. I'm not in the mood."

That much was clear. Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Theo so angry. What was also striking Draco as being very odd was the fact that, despite Theo looking right at him, he had yet to make even the slightest sign of acknowledgement. Now, Draco was more than aware that he was less than popular in Slytherin at the moment, but he expected at least to have his presence noted. He was about to say something to Theo when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the mirror over the fireplace. In it he could see Theo clearly reflected, with Annabelle standing beside him just as she should be. What he could not see, however, was his own reflection. Draco glanced around and confirmed that he should be able to see himself, yet he couldn't. His brow creased with a frown, then un-creased just as quickly as he remembered that he was still wearing his cloak. Damn, the thing really did seem to have a mind of its own, though why it had chosen to hide him now was a mystery. He was just about to ask it when Annabelle's voice brought his focus back to the present.

"I don't care what kind of mood you're in, Theodore," she yelled. "You will NOT treat me like that. How dare you? What gives you the right…"

She never finished her question as, with a speed that startled even Draco, Theo spun on his heel and lashed out at her. The back of his fist caught Annabelle hard beneath her right eye. The force of the blow was enough to send her tumbling backward. She collided with the arm of the nearest sofa and spun off it onto the ground, where she landed with a heavy thud. Draco's hand was moving toward his wand before he knew what was happening. His fingers had just closed on the handle when Theo spoke.

"How dare I?" he bellowed at the fallen girl as he strode toward her. "How dare YOU speak to me in that manner? Just who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

Theo didn't wait for an answer. Coming to a stop over the stunned and half insensible Annabelle, he bent down and seized her by the arms. Straightening up, he deposited her none too gently onto the couch as, behind him, Draco silently drew his wand. His eyes moved from one housemate to the other in silence. Annabelle sat still, frozen in shock. Her face was a mask of disbelief and growing anger. Theo paced. Draco felt wary looking at him like this. He wasn't afraid, not by any means, but he was seeing a side to Theo Nott. He had always been arrogant and chauvinistic, certainly, but no more so than any other of Draco's housemates. And sure, Draco had heard him talk about keeping his girlfriends in check, about being 'in charge' with them, but Draco had assumed that all of that was just talk and nonsense. This though, was certainly not talk and nonsense and, having witnessed it, Draco felt some of his anger from last night return. The urge to beat someone to a pulp was suddenly looking very attractive once again.

Theo stepped back from Annabelle and sighed. "How many times," he said as she raised a trembling hand to touch the already visible welt on her cheekbone, "do I have to teach you this lesson?"

Theo aimed his wand at Annabelle. Draco's eyes went wide. He hadn't seen him draw it. What the hell was he going to do to her now? Panicking, he rapidly levelled his own wand at Theo. He felt time contract around him, but even with that he knew that his cry of, "Expelliarmus!" had come just a moment too late.

At the same moment that Draco cast his disarming charm, Theo had said, "Emergence," with his wand levelled at Annabelle. To Draco's surprise, even with the slowing of time, he saw no spell or charm leave Theo's wand before it was torn from his grip and sent sailing through the air toward Draco.

Draco touched his cloak and became visible just in time to let Theo see him snare the wand from the air.

"What the…" Theo blurted. "Where the hell did you come from?"

Theo took a step toward him, but Draco flicked his wand and said, "Repulset!"

The charm struck Theo in the chest with the force of a hammer blow and sent him reeling backward, the air driven from his lungs. Theo stumbled and fell to one knee, clutching his chest as he fought for air. Draco took a moment while he was down to check on Annabelle.

Even though no curse had hit her, she was certainly not herself. Her trembling had stopped and she was sitting bolt upright, staring ahead with a blank expression on her face. Draco frowned, just what the hell had he done to her? It was a good question, and one he would have answered.

"Wha..wh," Theo spluttered, fighting to speak, "Malfoy? What… what the fuck… are you doing?"

Draco laughed. "Funny," he replied, "I was just about to ask you the same question."

"You… you can't…" came the reply as Theo made to stand up again.

"Uh-uh," Draco admonished him, "Don't make me put you down there permanently." Theo glared up at him through watering eyes, but he obeyed. "Good boy," Draco made his voice sound patronising, "Now then, are you going to explain yourself?"

"Wh…" Theo started, then spluttered and coughed for a moment. "What," he said again when he had caught his breath again, "gives you the right…"

"Oh please?" Draco asked. "Try to focus, Theo, and remember which one of us has the wand. Unless you want a lesson like you just gave her?"

Theo glared at him for a full ten count before he spoke again. "Look," he said, "this isn't what it looks like."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah?" he said. "Well that's good for you then," he added, pocketing Theo's wand and stepping closer to Annabelle. Her face remained blank and her posture rigid. Close up, Draco could see that her eyes were glazed over as she stared straight ahead. "Because it looks," he continued, "as thought you'd be spending quite some time in prison for this," he snapped his fingers loudly in front of Annabelle's face, no reaction. He turned back to Theo. "Now, I'm no expert, but even I can recognise the Imperius Curse when I see it."

Theo snorted loud. "You're right, Malfoy, you are not an expert. Do you really think that I'd be dumb enough to cast an Unforgivable Curse on her… here?"

Draco frowned. "It's not like its never been done before," he said, remembering a very unpleasant encounter with the Terrible Twosome. Weasley had been intent on using Cruciatus on him that night, and would have too had Etean not intervened.

"Oh yes," Theo laughed again, "You mean in a classroom, when Moody showed them to us with Dumbledore's permission?"

"As it happens," Draco said, "I was thinking of another time."

"Really?" Theo coughed again, his breathing becoming less laboured as the moments passed. Draco tensed his grip on his wand, ready for some trick. "Well," he continued, "that must have been before Snape finished casting his charms."

"What charms?" Draco frowned again. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Gods, Malfoy," Theo sneered, "You really are out of touch these days. There was a time when nothing in this castle would have escaped your notice."

"Careful," Draco knew Theo was goading him, trying to get him to lower his guard, "Now," he stepped away from Annabelle into a more open area of the floor, "you had better start making sense here, real fast."

Theo sighed. "Snape," he sputtered, "he cast special alarm spells all over the castle; I overheard him telling Dumbledore one night. Seems the old man is worried that bad things might happen at Hogwarts," a slight snigger, "So he had Snape rig the place. Anyone tries to perform an Unforgivable Curse anywhere in Hogwarts, and every alarm in the castle goes off."

"Interesting," Draco nodded, "and bullshit of course. You think I'm going to believe you after what I just saw?"

"I don't care what you believe," Theo said. "Now, can I stand up? This floor isn't good for my knees."

"I don't give a damn about your knees, Theo," Draco barked. "You are going to tell me the truth…"

"Master?" Draco jumped slightly as a dull voice came out of nowhere. He turned to see Annabelle acting more like her usual self. She was looking at him with a slightly confused expression on her face. Then she blinked once and turned her head. The moment she spotted Theo, her face lit up with recognition. "How may I please you, Master?" she asked him.

Draco was flummoxed, his jaw hung open. What in the hell was going on? His wand never moved from Theo. "Master?" he asked him, "You care to explain that?"

"I would," Theo answered. There was a glint in his eye that Draco recognised as danger. His mind tensed as Theo spoke again. "Annabelle," he said calmly, "Attack Malfoy!"

Draco barely had an instant to register what he'd just heard. Without making a sound, Annabelle spun to face him, her face set into an expression of determined anger as she leapt off the couch. At the same moment, Theo burst from his crouch and came at Draco like a mad bull.

This time, though, Draco didn't panic. He had seen the glint in Theo's eye and was en guarde, ready for the strike. He hadn't really expected both of them to come at him, however, but that didn't matter really. He stepped backward from both attackers as his mind hauled on the fabric of time once again. Both Theo and Annabelle slowed in mid step until it appeared as though they were barely moving at all.

Draco turned to Annabelle and aimed his wand. "Stupefy!" he roared. The golden spell poured out of the end of his wand and slowed as it crossed into the area where time was altered. With Annabelle dealt with; Draco turned his attention to Theo once again. His first instinct was to stun him too, but then he remembered that he still wanted to extract some answers from the prat so, lowering his wand to aim at the rug in front of the fire, Draco shouted, "Accio!"

His mind released his hold on time and, in a snap, the actions he had started played out. His stunner hit Annabelle mid flight and she landed hard on the floor where Draco had just been standing. Her landing would have been painful, Draco knew, if she wasn't already out cold before she hit. Theo was not so lucky.

By the time Draco's Accio spell hit the rug and tugged it forward, Theo's foot was planted squarely on it. The rug moved, toppling the charging Slytherin in spectacular style. He spun in mid air, legs and arms flailing madly, and landed hard on his back across the arm of one of the armchairs. A definite WHOMPH told Draco that he had once again knocked the air from his fallen housemate and, he mused, with any luck at all, broken some of his ribs into the bargain. Moaning and wheezing, Theo rolled sideways and slid awkwardly onto the floor.

Keeping his wand aimed squarely at Theo, Draco walked over to look down into his eyes. He wasn't surprised to see proper tears flowing down his cheeks this time as Theo lay on his back, fighting once more for breath.

"Hhhheeeeehhhhhh," Theo wheezed, "Heeehhh…. Ho… How did you…"

"How did I do that?" Draco finished for him. Theo coughed hard in between nods. Draco smiled. "That, Theo," he said, "is something that you will never know. Nor is it important. All that matters now is that I am going to give you one chance, just one more, to tell me what the hell you did to that girl before I hex your brains out. And, please Theo," Draco stared down into his housemate's eyes, "don't for one second think that any imaginary alarm is going to stop me. After the night I've had, I wouldn't put anything past me right now."

Theo blinked away the tears in his eyes and fell into a fit of coughing wheezes. Draco stepped back and waited for him to catch his breath. Eventually, amid the nonsensical sounds, Draco heard, "I…I didn't…"

Stepping forward, Draco kicked hard at the side of Theo's ribs by way of encouragement. "Speak up you troll," he demanded, "and speak fast!"

Theo reeled from the kick. Folding up, he rolled onto his side and spluttered hard. Draco stepped back, expecting him to vomit at any moment, but somehow, Theo held his stomach in check. "I didn't do anything to her," he shouted rather forcefully after a time, then in a more composed voice, he added, "she…she was a…a present from my father."

"A present?" Draco asked, not really sure of his hearing, "what the fuck do you mean a present?"

"I…I mean…" Theo coughed again, "I mean… he gave her to me." Then, when he saw Draco stepping forward again, he added, "I don't… I don't know what he did to her, but he changed her…inside…made it so she'd do whatever I…I wanted her to.

"He made her your slave?" Draco asked, genuinely disgusted by the very notion.

Theo spluttered as he nodded. "Yes," he managed to say, "he told me that all I had to do was to s…say the word 'Emergence' to her like I was h…hexing her…and then she'd do whatever I told her to do…"

"And I can imagine what you told her to do," Draco sneered at him, "I did wonder, you know, why she suddenly took a liking to you lately. As I recall, she wouldn't touch you with a twenty foot broom handle last year," he shook his head and stepped away, "It all makes sense now," he turned to glare at Theo, "You disgusting piece of…"

A moan from the far side of the floor distracted Draco. Annabelle rolled over on the ground, coming to. Draco turned back to Theo, "Why her?" he asked.

Even through his tears, Theo managed to look smug, "What do you mean?" he replied in a hoarse croak, "Why not? She's pureblood… and shes got a good body… what else do you want in a toy?"

Draco ground his teeth. It took effort, real effort for him to resist the urge to hex Theo's skin off where he lay. He needed to get out, to get some air before he really lost his temper. But he couldn't leave Annabelle in her current state. Turning once again to face Theo, he spat through clenched teeth "How do you wake her up?"

When Theo didn't answer, Draco levelled his wand at him again, to angry to make any further threats. It had the desired effect, "You just say "Reversion"," Theo said quietly, "and she'll be back to normal…but…" he started to sound scared now, "but you can't…"

"Why the hell not?" Draco asked as he walked over toward the wakening Annabelle.

"B..because," Theo answered, trying to sit up, "You have to fix her injuries first and make it seem like nothing happened. Otherwise she'll know…"

"Yes," Draco answered, "I daresay she will, but," he smiled at Theo, "that is not my problem, is it?"

Standing over Annabelle as she opened her eyes, Draco pointed his wand at her and said, "Reversion!"

Instantly, her eyes snapped open and her body went rigid. Draco watched the same, blank expression come over her face. He looked over at Theo, "I assume it takes a minute for her to come round?" he asked.

Theo nodded. "Yes," he said, "b…but…"

"No, Theo," Draco cut him off, "no buts, not this time." Draco levelled his wand at Theo's chest and said, "Bindus!"

Out of thin air, heavy ropes appeared and wrapped themselves around Theo, binding him securely where he lay. "Now then," Draco said as he admired his handiwork, "I think that you are going to have some very fast talking to do in the near future if you want to keep your skin intact. I'll be keeping your wand by the way, just to make sure that you play nice when she wakes up."

"Wait…Draco…" Theo said.

"Shut it, Theo, or I'll shut it for you."

Theo's mouth clicked shut, but his eyes continued to stare at Draco with a mixture of fear and anger. Annabelle remained stationary on the floor. It was just a matter of time before she woke up and, judging by the bruises she was sure to have, she was not going to be a happy camper when she did. Smiling, Draco pocketed his wand and turned to leave. He felt a real sense of satisfaction at having unravelled one of the many mysteries that plagued him. He paused to glance at Theo as he passed. There was one other matter that occurred to him.

"Theo," he asked, drawing his wand again and stooping down to look the fallen Slytherin in the eye, "Just out of curiosity, what was it that you and Annabelle were shouting about when you came in just now? Something about a paper?" Theo's answer was to glare at him until Draco waved his wand in front of the other boy's eyes. "Theo," he said coolly, "Don't make me use this. What paper were you and Annabelle arguing over?"

Theo's eyes flicked from the wand to Draco's face. "The Daily Prophet," he said at last, "in my robes…"

That was all Draco needed to hear. Without a care for what pain it would cause him, Draco shoved Theo onto his back and started to dig about between the ropes to get at his robes.

"It would be easier if you untied me," Theo said.

Draco sneered. "No, Theo," he said, resting the tip of his wand on the other boy's chest, "It would be easier like this… Stupefy!"

There was barely enough time for Theo's eyes to flash wide in fright before the spell rendered him unconscious. With him safely out, Draco had no compunctions about undoing the ropes. Once they were out of the way, it was a simple matter for him to locate the copy of the Daily Prophet, which Theo had stuffed rather unceremoniously into his inside pocket.

Draco rebound Theo before he stood to read the paper, it wouldn't do for him to wake up before Annabelle was ready for him. Draco didn't know if the Slytherin girl was going to be able to get the best of his housemate, but that didn't matter. If he knew Theo at all, then the fact that Draco knew his secret would be enough to keep him from harming her anymore. As for what would happen to him later, Draco wasn't sure about that. By all rights he supposed that he should report him to the Headmaster; Theo's actions warranted expulsion at the very least, but Draco wasn't sure. Knowing what he did about Theo gave him a degree of an edge over the boy, and no Slytherin worth his robes would ever through such an edge away lightly. Draco knew that there may come a time when he might need Theo for something, and until then he'd happily let things play out.

Turning his attention to the paper, Draco unravelled it. One look at the headline on the front page and Draco knew why Theo had been so pissed off.

'_Death Eater Captured!!! Aurors Receive International Support_'

A large photograph covered most of the page. In it, struggling against his captors. A man that Draco recognised as Theo Nott Senior was being dragged down a ramshackle flight of stairs. In an instant, as he scanned the paragraph, he could hear Lord Menai's words from the previous evening telling him again how Etean was in this for his own gain and now:

'_In a daring series of pre-dawn raids, members of the esteemed Etyar Guards, freshly arrived from France to assist the beleaguered Auror Corps, this morning conducted a total of five assaults on known Death Eater safe houses and, in the process, succeeded in capturing the known Death Eater, Theodore Nott._'

Draco's eyes went back to the picture. One of the two men restraining Nott was an Auror, but the other was certainly not. Draco recognised the uniform of the Etyar Guards, it wasn't one that was easily forgotten. He read on;

'_Mr. Nott, who is currently wanted for questioning in relation to at least a dozen open murder cases by the Ministry of Magic, as well as for several lesser crimes, including the use of the Unforgivable Curses on a series of wizards and muggles throughout the country, was detained as he attempted to flee from No 23 Fitzwilliam Square, London, at a quarter past eight this morning. Nott has been taken into custody and will be transferred to an undisclosed holding facility to await questioning before he is brought to trial._

_Speaking on behalf of the Ministry, Professor Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, expressed his thanks to the Etyar, without whom, the raids would not have gone so smoothly._

_The Etyar Guards, widely considered to be amongst the finest Magical Law Enforcers in the world, are most famous for their stalwart defence of the French Government Buildings, known as the Adjutaire, a position they have held for over two centuries with distinction. Todays's operation to capture Mr. Nott was conducted in accordance with an agreement brokered only last night between the Ministry and Robert, Lord Etean XV. Though unavailable for comment, it is understood by this reporter that Lord Etean is exceedingly pleased that his agreement to involve the Etyar Guards in this operation should prove so critical in bringing about this victory…._'

There was more but Draco didn't read it. Annabelle stirred on the floor beside him. Draco looked at her for a moment and then turned to leave. He had decided that it was best that she not see him standing there when she woke up. That girl had a temper and Draco wanted all of it to be directed at Theo Nott. Besides, he mused as the door of the common room closed behind him, he'd done his part to help the girl. Now… now he had to go back to unravelling the mysteries of his life and, he thought, things had just become even more complicated. He paused a moment to toss Nott's wand away into the dark, dungeon corridor, not caring whether Theo would ever find it or not as he heard it clatter off the flagstones.

So, Etean had joined the war had he? That was unexpected. Once again, Draco was left mired in aimless, never-ending questions. He sighed and set off towards the staircase, this was shaping up to be a long day.

--------------------------------

Hermione sat up in her bed as Professor McGonagall entered the Hospital Wing. She couldn't be sure, but she could swear there was a look of relief on the Professor's face when she saw Hermione. This was odd behaviour for her, but that seemed oddly fitting. Madam Pomfrey had been acting strangely all morning too. Not angry or even upset really, just on edge. Every time they had made eye contact while the Nurse had been examining her, Hermione could have sworn that the Nurse looked… vacant. It wasn't what she was used to with Madam Pomfrey. The Nurse always seemed to be on top of things, no matter what. It was very unsettling to see her like this.

Professor McGonagall's demeanour was unsettling as well. Hermione would have expected the Professor to be angry with her. After all, between Draco and herself, they had broken at least ten school rules by brewing that potion, not least amongst which was her inspiring Draco to steal the ingredients for her. By now, Hermione would have expected to be knee deep in detentions and lost House Points, that was assuming Professor McGonagall didn't go the whole hog and expel her.

Then an odd thought occurred to her. But no, surely the Professor knew what had happened? Surely Draco had explained everything to the Nurse when he'd brought Hermione to the Hospital Wing? Hermione knew that he had brought her here, how else could she have woken up in this bed? Of course, she had had to assume that, seeing as how Madam Pomfrey wasn't being very helpful.

Indeed, the Matron had barely even spoken two words to Hermione from the moment she'd first woken up. That too struck Hermione as odd. Over the last few weeks, she had visited the Hospital so often for one reason or another that she and the Matron were all but on a first name basis. Maybe Madam Pomfrey was just mad at her, Hermione thought. She couldn't really blame her if she was. Brewing that potion had been foolish of her, especially given how it had turned out.

Hermione didn't remember much about what happened, or about anything from the night before. She could recall taking the potion and then feeling it start to make her all light headed and giddy and then… nothing. The next thing she knew, she was lying in the Hospital Wing with the Nurse standing over her, feeling about as lousy as she had before taking the potion.

Well, perhaps not quite as bad as before. She was, if anything, less bone weary. But that was to be expected, seeing as how she'd spent the night sedated. That much Madam Pomfrey had told her, but as for anything else… not a word would pass her lips. The only reply she had give to any of Hermione's questions was that there would be time for that later, after she'd had some rest.

It was somewhat of a relief to Hermione that she didn't remember anything of the night shed just had. Being sedated and trapped inside her continual nightmare was the one thing that truly terrified her above all others, but now it had happened and Hermione couldn't remember a thing. Perhaps the potion had worked after all; she felt better, and wasn't that the point? Her nightmares, if there had been any, didn't haunt her as they usually did. But Hermione couldn't fool herself any longer; she was in the Hospital Wing for crying out loud. Clearly, for what small benefit it had, the potion was not what she had hoped it to be. Gods, she didn't want to imagine what its effects had looked like to Draco. How scared had he been? Was he worried about her even now? Was he mad at her for being so stupid? He had every right to be if he was, and so did Madam Pomfrey when it came to it, and Professor McGonagall.

And now Professor McGonagall was here, but the look on her face was certainly not one of anger. As she came closer, Hermione could have sworn she saw a look of pity cross her features. She got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, which only got worse when the Professor nodded to Madam Pomfrey. As the Nurse withdrew in silence, Hermione was sure she saw Professor McGonagall swallow very hard as though she were fighting back tears. Hermione felt a shiver run up her spine.

The Nurse retreated into her office, leaving Hermione alone with the Professor. Professor McGonagall sat slowly on the edge of Hermione's bed and rested her hands on her lap.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Hermione asked, finding speaking a little harder than she had expected.

"No," McGonagall sighed, "I'm afraid that everything is not alright, Hermione."

Hermione thought she heard a hint of disappointment in the Professor's voice. So that was it. Professor McGonagall wasn't mad at her because she was disappointed with her. To Hermione, that was almost worse than her being angry. Disappointed meant that the Professor was not just upset, but that she was personally hurt by what Hermione had done. Hermione felt wretched. How could she have been so reckless, so foolish? Hermione averted her gaze. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said meekly.

McGonagall gasped aloud. "Sorry?" she all but croaked, "Heavens above child, what have you to be sorry for?"

"For the potion, Professor," Hermione answered, still not meeting the Professor's eyes, "I know it was wrong to make it, I know that I shouldn't have done it and I… I know I've let you down," she sniffed back a tear, "I'm really sorry, Professor."

McGonagall didn't reply. There was no sound at all from her except her breathing. After a long moment, Hermione looked up, and felt her insides freeze solid. McGonagall wasn't looking at her, she wasn't looking at anything at all in fact. The Professor had shut her eyes and bowed her head to her chest. Silent tears slid down her aged face and were already starting to drip onto her robes.

The bad feeling inside Hermione turned into a cold knot in her heart. She wasn't worried anymore, she was scared stiff. Nothing, no situation she could imagine would evoke such a response from the normally stoic Professor.

"I..." Hermione started, fighting to maintain her ability to speak, "I really am sorry, Professor," she all but muttered.

"No," replied the Professor suddenly. "No, Hermione, it is me that is sorry. So…so sorry."

"F…for what?" Hermione stammered.

"For not…" Professor McGonagall began, but then she stopped herself. She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "Hermione," she said slowly, "I am sorry, but what I have to tell you now is not…it is not going to be easy to say and especially difficult for you to hear. There is no easy way to say what I am about to say and I honestly don't know of any way to make this easier on you." The Professor paused to sniff hard. "You deserve the truth," she said at last, "you deserve to know what is…what is happening to you."

Hermione's frozen insides started to crumble in on themselves. "What is happening to me, Professor?"

"Yes," McGonagall sniffed again, then looked her in the eye, "Your condition," she said, "is more severe than Madam Pomfrey originally realised."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked on reflex, "You mean I don't have Magical Polarity Disorder?"

Professor McGonagall stalled and shut her eyes again. It seemed to be taking her a moment to compose herself, much to Hermione's despair.

"You do have MPD, Hermione," she said after a time, "but… I'm afraid that things are not as simple as that," the Professor shuffled slightly in her seat and cleared her throat before continuing, "All of the things that have been happening to you over the last few months, Hermione…the MPD… the problems with your muscles… the fatigue… having are symptoms of a larger… disease. One which you have contracted though… though it's impossible to say how."

"What disease, Professor?" Hermione asked, feeling as though her whole world were about to collapse. In her mind, Hermione was eliminating possible explanations for the Professor's quite obvious distress and, the more the Professor spoke, the shorter the list became.

"Its called Nailar's Syndrome," the Professor answered, "and its very, very rare. There hasn't been anyone…"

For the first time in her life, Hermione found herself uninterested in what Professor McGonagall was saying. "What…" she said suddenly, startling even herself, "What will it do to me?"

McGonagall took a breath. "Nailar's Syndrome attacks the body in… lots of ways but… the most… severe is how it affects your blood. The disease forces your body to produce vast amounts of black cells, the things in your blood that allow you to do magic. They act like conductors, generating and channelling magic through you, and that's a good thing," Professor McGonagall added quickly, "normally," she swallowed again and took yet another steadying breath, "the trouble is, with too many black cells in your blood there is too much magic conducted through you and… and the body can't take it. The excess energy causes damage to the cells of the…of the central nervous system and…" the Professor tailed off. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Hermione.

"And what, Professor," Hermione urged though, really, she didn't have to. The list of possible explanations inside her mind had been reduced to one item. Only one explanation was severe enough to upset the Professor so much, "its going…to kill me…isn't it Professor?"

The Professor's response seemed to take a lifetime to arrive, but when it did, a simple nod and a muttered, "Yes," was the last thing that Hermione heard of the conversation. The Professor kept talking, and she seemed to be saying some encouraging things about not giving up hope, but Hermione was only dimly aware of the sound of her voice. She retreated from the world around her, ran away if that's the word to use, she simply didn't want to hear anything more of what the Professor was going to say. What did it matter anyway? She knew all that she needed to know. She was sick and she was going to die and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. It made a strange sort of sense to her really. It was almost like she had always known it was going to happen. She just couldn't bring herself to listen to Professor McGonagall's hollow, if well-meant platitudes.

'You know,' came an all too familiar voice, which, for once, Hermione wasn't upset to hear; in fact she didn't feel anything at all, 'you really should listen to her,' the voice continued, 'she is trying to help you feel better. What's wrong with that?'

Hermione tried to shut the voice out, which was remarkably hard since it was inside her head. She fought desperately not to respond to it.

'Come on,' the voice said, 'shutting out people when they are just trying to help you is not a very good idea.'

'What's it to you?' Hermione responded, unable to help it.

'So she does hear me," the voice replied, somehow lacking its usual sarcastic edge, 'good, and here I was starting to think that I was wasting my breath.'

'What breath?' Hermione thought, then instantly regretted it. Somehow the idea of another acerbic argument with herself didn't really appeal to her.

'Ok,' the voice replied, undeterred, 'you got me there all right. Whatever else I do, I don't breathe. It was just a figure of speech, Honey.'

Professor McGongall laid her hand on Hermione's shoulder. She could see the Professor's lips mouth words as she spoke and then she could feel herself speak as she answered but, for the life of her, Hermione couldn't tell what she was actually saying. That, naturally enough, was a shock to her. Her shock grew as she realised that she'd been speaking for a while now without realising it.

'Wait,' she though, a little alarmed, 'is that you? Are you the one speaking?'

'Yes,' came the rather frank response, 'I am. The woman is worried about you. Like I said, she's trying to help you, we both are.'

'Both?' Hermione tried to make the thought a scream. 'What have you ever done to help me?'

'Good,' the voice replied, 'get angry. Anger is good, we can use that.'

'Use it for what?'

The voice laughed. 'For what else? I said I'm trying to help you and I am.'

'Help me?' Hermione replied. 'How can you possibly help me? In case you weren't listening earlier, I'm going to be dead soon!'

'Are you just going to accept that?' the voice replied.

'What choice do I have?' Hermione asked.

'Honey,' the voice answered, somehow soothingly now, 'there is always a choice.'

Hermione's mind flashed back to the last time the voice had spoken to her like this, and she recalled what had happened afterward. 'What do you mean?' she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

'Trust me,' the voice said.


End file.
